


The Best Laid Plans

by hearmerory



Series: Change of Address [14]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autism, Autistic Zuko (Avatar), Azula Joins the Gaang (Avatar), Big Brother Sokka (Avatar), Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Child Abuse, Consent, First Dates, Found Family, Gay Sokka (Avatar), Gay Zuko (Avatar), Getting Together, Hakoda (Avatar) is a Good Parent, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, M/M, Minor Bato/Hakoda (Avatar), Mrs Jamison is BACK, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, POV Sokka (Avatar), Parental Hakoda (Avatar), Past Jet/Zuko (Avatar), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Sokka (Avatar), So does Zuko, Sokka (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Sokka (Avatar)-centric, Sokka is a good boyfriend, Sokka says fuck a lot, Theater Nerd Zuko (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko's Childhood (Avatar), and Jet, we all say fuck a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27959405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearmerory/pseuds/hearmerory
Summary: “We had fun at the tea shop, right?” Sokka said gently. “You had a good time?”“I... I guess...” Zuko’s heel bounced against the floor.“Ihad a good time,” Sokka nodded firmly, “and I’d like to be friends. Step one is eating lunch together.”He watched the visible confusion deepen over the other boy’s face.“Step one of what?”Spirits.“Being friends.”
Relationships: Aang & Katara & Sokka & Toph, Azula & Sokka (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Hakoda & Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Hakoda & Sokka (Avatar), Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Sokka & The Gaang (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Change of Address [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928572
Comments: 94
Kudos: 570





	The Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Told you it was going to be long. I didn't quite think it was going to be THIS long, but there was nowhere good to split it, so here we go.
> 
> Sokka is a good boy, but he is also 16/17/18, and being a teenager is hard.  
> 
> 
> Warnings for implied sexual abuse, mild discussions of child abuse. No particularly graphic violence.
> 
> In this house, everyone except Ozai deserves a redemption arc.
> 
> Also, we have the return of Mrs Jamison, the OG MVP of this series.

If Sokka was being completely honest, he hadn’t actually noticed that Zuko Sozin had come back to school until Mrs Jamison had cornered him.

He was kind of used to the other boy being a little more noticeable.

He seemed smaller, somehow. He walked more slowly too, now, and Sokka could see the huge bags under his unscarred eye when he took his hood off for class. He looked exhausted.

He kept his head down, his hoodie pulled low over his face whenever they weren’t in class.

It wasn’t like no one had seen the scar, he’d had it for years, everyone knew. Sokka didn’t know why he was suddenly trying to hide it.

Well, no one knew how he’d got it, but Sokka still had the best odds in Toph’s betting pool from the year before. He’d bet it’d been a freak motorcycle accident.

Two hundred to one was good, right? That’s how gambling worked? Ah well. A problem for another day.

But Zuko’d come back to school the week before. He’d must have been pretty sick. As far as Sokka could remember, he hadn’t seen the other boy since Thanksgiving, and it was January.

Must suck to have to come back to class after such a long break.

* * *

Mrs Jamison cornered Sokka after class on Monday, and he had the brilliant idea to try and make friends with Zuko.

Even if he was kind of grumpy. And maybe a little scary. And definitely, intimidatingly, _hot_.

Sue him. It wasn’t as though Zuko was the first guy Sokka’d had a little bit of a crush on. Spirits curse him, even he’d had his own little field trip with Jet. Before he and Katara had got together, obviously.

Sokka didn’t quite know how he knew that Zuko worked at the Jasmine Dragon, but he did. Maybe Katara had gone once, and mentioned that the weird kid with the badass scar had been there?

It didn’t matter. Sokka just dragged his friends there the Saturday after Mrs Jamison had given him the excellent idea, and there he was.

Damn. He was really freaking pretty.

* * *

Sokka, Katara, Toph and Aang left the Jasmine Dragon fifteen minutes after closing. They’d wrapped up their board game just as Zuko’s uncle had come in to ask him why he hadn’t started closing up the shop, and they’d been gently tossed out into the street.

“Well... that was... something,” Katara frowned a little. Sokka pursed his lips.

“I’m not gonna deny he’s a bit of a tough one,” he said, “but he was trying so hard, Katara!”

“I don’t think he stopped panicking the whole time you guys were playing,” Toph interjected, sweeping her cane out in front of her, rattling against the sidewalk. “And there’s something wrong with his heart. Like, an arrhythmia or something. It’s pretty bad, I think. It kept skipping. And his footsteps were way too light, he’s too thin.”

“Okay now we definitely have to keep him!” Sokka quickened his pace for a few steps and then turned around, walking backwards so he could talk to them all face fo face.

“He’s not a stray dog, Sokka,” Katara rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, but like... have you ever seen him talk to anyone at school?” Aang bit his lip a little. “It really sucks, not having friends.”

There was a beat of silence as they were all reminded of how frequently Aang had moved foster placements, and schools, in the last few years, until he’d put his foot down and gone back to live at his group home.

“ _I’ve_ never seen him talk to anyone,” Toph offered. Sokka was about to agree when he realized.

“Hey!”

“You’re just so easy, Snoozles! Learn to spot a blind joke when you _see_ one!”

“How about a trial period?” Katara suggested, skipping over the blind jokes. “We can try and be friends with him for a month or so, and if it works, then great, but if it doesn’t, we can just walk away.”

Something felt a bit dirty about that idea in Sokka’s head.

“I don’t think we should do that. You know, offer to be his friend and then take it back if he doesn’t meet our expectations. That seems kind of mean.”

“Agreed,” Toph put in. “That’d be like dumping me after a month if I couldn’t give you good fashion advice.”

“No it’s not! You’re blind, of course you couldn’t give good fashion advice!” Katara’s footsteps stuttered a little, surprised.

“Katara, are _you_ blind?” Toph rolled her eyes, “that kid is autistic as fuck, with a super sized serving of anxiety, and I for one think it would be ridiculously shitty of us to give him a friendship _trial period_. We’re not doing that.”

Sokka nodded. Toph had spoken, and Toph’s will was immovable.

“Oh,” Katara scratched the back of her neck. “I guess I didn’t realize.”

“Well, realize now.” Toph smirked.

“I think he seems nice,” Aang piped up. “I’d like to be friends.”

“Yeah, me too,” Sokka nodded firmly, turning back around to join the line of his friends.

“You just think he’s hot,” Aang smirked. Sokka hoped his face wasn’t as red as he felt.

“The fact that that boy’s jawline is Tui’s gift to mankind is completely irrelevant,” he lifted his chin.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” Aang winked.

* * *

On Monday, Sokka found Zuko by his locker, gathering his books for afternoon classes.

“Hey!” He leaned against the wall, smiling openly at the other boy. Zuko started slightly, fumbling not to drop his books. “We had fun hanging out with you over the weekend. Do you want to come eat lunch with us?”

Zuko’s face closed off, all of the surprise and neutrality vanishing instantly, replaced by confused defensiveness.

“Why?” He asked after a moment. Sokka frowned.

“Because we want to get to know you better. Besides, it’s lunch time, we might as well eat in the same place.”

Zuko’s fingers tapped out intricate patterns on his textbook, the unscarred side of his face creasing further into confusion.

“I eat lunch outside,” he frowned. Sokka raised an eyebrow.

“It’s raining, dude. Come sit with us in the cafeteria.”

“But...” Zuko seemed to be struggling desperately to figure something out, and Sokka felt a burst of sympathy. “Why?”

“We had fun at the tea shop, right?” Sokka said gently. “You had a good time?”

“I... I guess...” Zuko’s heel bounced against the floor.

“ _I_ had a good time,” Sokka nodded firmly, “and I’d like to be friends. Step one is eating lunch together.”

He watched the visible confusion deepen over the other boy’s face.

“Step one of what?”

Spirits.

“Being friends.”

“You _want_ to be my friend?”

Sokka’s heart splintered at the badly disguised hope in Zuko’s tone.

“Yeah,” he nodded enthusiastically, leaning back against the lockers. “Exactly. Come eat with us?”

“I... okay,” Zuko’s frown didn’t dissipate as he trailed along beside Sokka to the cafeteria, one arm wrapped around his books and the other hand clutched around the strap of his backpack.

Sokka made a beeline for his friends and threw himself down on a bench. Zuko stood awkwardly next to them until the others greeted him and Aang budged over so he could sit by him.

Sokka started up a conversation, subconsciously making enough funny comments to cover up Zuko’s silence.

He watched the other boy carefully slide his books into his bag and place it on the floor between his legs, like he was guarding it. Zuko pulled out a thin wooden lunch box and set it on the table, pulling chopsticks out of a slot in the lid.

He ate slowly, and completely silently.

Sokka frowned a little at how much of the food he was leaving in the box.

“Aren’t you gonna eat that?” He pointed to the two thirds of his lunch that Zuko had pushed to one side.

Zuko flinched in on himself, his shoulders coming up to shield his neck as everyone turned to look at him. Sokka internally slapped himself for drawing attention to the other boy’s weird eating habits.

“No,” Zuko said quietly, barely above a whisper.

“Why not?” Aang flashed a wide smile at him before shoveling another mouthful of his own food into his mouth.

“I just... I don’t... my stomach hurts, if I eat too much.”

Sokka could feel the waves of awkwardness coming off him.

“How come?” Katara asked. She always did like to get in on other people’s medical mysteries.

“I was...” Sokka watched as he laid his chopsticks down and his hands curled into nervous pulsing, “I was sick.”

“Is that why you missed so much school?” Aang cocked his head to one side.

Zuko nodded once, and Sokka felt his knee bouncing under the table.

“What happened?” Katara’s eyes narrowed as Zuko’s flitted from the tabletop to the door. Sokka burned with curiosity even as he wanted to tell everyone to lay off.

“I... I was just... I had an injury. And I was in the hospital for a little while.”

“Shit, that sounds rough,” Sokka twisted his lips into a sympathetic grimace. “You’re better now though, right?”

“Yeah,” Zuko slowly reached out for his chopsticks again, taking them between long, agile fingers. “I’m fine.”

* * *

Sokka wasn’t usually one for spending an evening at the library, but he found himself at the doors twenty minutes after school finished, rushing down aisles trying to find his section.

He’d been at the library the day before too, and Katara had stared at him, open mouthed, when he said he was going to spend the second afternoon in a row in between shelves of musty books.

But Sokka was on a mission.

Sure, he normally approached his missions with a vague plan and a handful of experiments, but he didn’t think that would work here.

Here, he needed to be careful. To tread lightly. And he couldn’t afford to have his plan go wrong.

Sokka found the right section and ran his finger along the spines.

Every few books, he pulled something out, checking the contents page, looking up the author on his phone, or scanning through a few paragraphs to check he could sit through the writing style long enough to get anything out of it.

Fifteen minutes later, Sokka sat in a squishy armchair, a pile of books stacked by his feet.

He’d already worked out that the cool little flutters Zuko made with his hands were called stims.

He’d worked out that the whole eye contact thing was hard for some brain reason he didn’t fully grasp, but which Zuko probably compensated for by looking at his forehead or shoulder.

He’d worked out that social cues were probably difficult, and that knowing when to talk or not talk was probably not as easy as it was for Sokka.

So now he was looking for things that might help. Subtle stuff he could pass off as not being specifically to improve Zuko’s life, because... well, he’d only actually spoken to the other boy a few times, and it would be weird to start buying him weighted blankets and noise cancelling headphones.

But adding more pressure to a hug? Prompting replies with questions in conversations? Trying not to have multiple conversations at the same time when they’re in a group? Making sure they hung out in quieter places than usual?

He could do stuff like that, and not have it be weird.

Sokka discarded the book he was skimming through. He somehow didn’t think Zuko would enjoy structured play time on a rug with a trusted adult and carefully curated, sensory rich toys.

He discarded the next book too. For some reason, it was all about _regulation_ and _fixing_ and _social acceptability_. Sokka frowned as he put it back down. Sure, Zuko was maybe a little weird and abrasive at first, but no one could watch his fingers tapping complicated patterns against his thigh as his forehead screwed up in concentration and want that to _stop_. It was freaking cute!

By the time Sokka started getting hungry for dinner, he had a plan.

* * *

Sokka never really meant to tell his sister every tiny detail of his life.

It even wasn’t like she told him everything. He’d known there’d been more to her and Aang than she’d been willing to admit, he’d just known it, and now, there they were, making out in the back of his car like... like _teenagers_!

And yet, somehow, he ended up telling her everything without even really trying.

He told her his plans for little inventions.

He told her whenever he finished a painting.

He told her when he started his homework, and when he finished it, and when he got his grades back.

He told her each time he did one of the chores highlighted in blue on the whiteboard in the kitchen.

He wondered, sometimes, if he would tell her half of those things if either of their parents were there.

He tried not to think about that too hard.

Sure, maybe Katara packed his lunch and checked his backpack every morning, but that didn’t make her his _mother_. And sure, maybe he’d taught her self defense, and maybe he’d taken her to her middle school prom, and maybe he’d punched Jet in the face last year for cheating on her. But that didn’t make him her _father_.

They just... shared a lot.

And he told her everything.

* * *

A week or so after they had firmly adopted Zuko into their friendship group, Sokka started noticing odd things about the other boy.

Not autism things, or social anxiety things. More serious things.

Like how he would flinch at loud noises, or when people touched him. Or how he’d get unnaturally exhausted towards the end of the day, or if they went on walks.

Or how he apologized more than Sokka had ever heard someone apologize.

Or, most noticeably, how he barely ate.

To give him credit, he was slowly eating more, but it was unsettling to watch him close his lunch box on half a meal and pack up his bag.

Sokka took to carrying around snacks and sharing them with the other boy every chance he got, giving him pretzels between classes and shoving granola bars into his hand at their lockers.

He also couldn’t help noticing that he kept getting... warm feelings, whenever Zuko did something particularly cute or awkward.

He found himself laughing uproariously whenever Zuko made sarcastic comments about the other students or the teachers.

Grinning when he caught Zuko’s hands fluttering in a different pattern.

Nudging him with a gentle elbow when he got that faraway look in his eyes that meant he was thinking too deeply.

And Zuko seemed to think deeply a lot.

Whenever he got lost in thought, this painfully vulnerable and sad expression would sweep over his face, and Sokka ached to know what exactly was happening in his head.

He wanted to make sure Zuko’s thoughts were nice, and not full of the darkness Sokka suspected.

There was just... something off about the other boy. Something weird about his reactions.

Something Sokka couldn’t quite figure out.

And that mystery, on top of the fact that he was just unfairly attractive, had Sokka hanging on his every word.

Which meant that almost every conversation he had with Katara for days on end was about Zuko.

“Just... fuck... I want to like, take him out, on dates. And hug him, all the time. I want to go see that dumb play he’s always talking about. I am fucking desperate to go to this duck pond he used to go to with his mother, and I’m just so, so, so fucked, Katara, I can’t even.”

“Uh... wow. Yeah. You’re kinda fucked.”

“He’s just... he’s so perfect, you know?”

“Um, no, I don’t know. I like him just fine, but he’s so broody and awkward.”

“You don’t get it,” Sokka flung himself onto his back and covered his eyes with his forearm. “I mean, yeah, he’s all kinds of awkward, but he’s so _sweet_. Like, he was telling me about this board game his uncle makes him play. The dude spends four evenings a week hanging out with this old guy’s friends, playing a board game he’s not even good at, because he _just_ _wants Uncle to be happy_. I mean! What was I supposed to do with that?”

“That is kinda sweet,” Katara admitted.

“And he meditates! Not in a spiritual way, like Aang, but in a whole _I will learn to feel all my feelings even if it kills me_ way. And apparently he’s super into martial arts, and he can even sword fight! Sword fighting, Katara! Can you imagine that boy sparring? With the hair and the... the arms...” Sokka trailed off into silence, a dopey smile settling over his face.

“Sokka, you are ridiculous,” Katara groaned. “Of all the things to focus on, you focused on his _arms_?”

“Ugh,” Sokka grinned, “they’re just so...”

“Lanky?” She giggled.

“‘Tara!” He slapped her arm playfully. “He’ll grow into them!”

“You sound like Gran-Gran!”

“Shut up!” He squeaked, “I do not!”

“Fine, then you sound like a little love sick puppy,” she pushed him back.

* * *

The first time Zuko overtly hinted that anything had been _wrong_ with his childhood, Sokka almost missed it.

The whole gang had been hanging out by the playing field after school, waiting for the respective rides to show up, and Toph was complaining bitterly about her parents.

“They just don’t listen,” she kicked out at the bleachers. “They’re always telling me to be _safe_ , and to sit there quietly while they discuss my life. It’s not fair! What’s so hard to understand about me being the best on the judo team _and_ the wrestling team?”

“I don’t know, Toph,” Katara sighed. “I wish they’d even just come to a meet and watch you.”

“Right? I don’t need them to protect me from every tiny little thing! I can look after myself!”

“Why don’t they think you can fight?” Zuko frowned.

“They think I’m some helpless little blind girl who couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag,” Toph gritted her teeth.

“But... if they think you’re weak, shouldn’t they make you practice _more_?”

Zuko’s head tilted to the side in confusion, and Sokka glanced between them, hoping it wouldn’t set Toph off.

“They think I should just stay home and be quiet, so no one will ever try to hurt me, and then I won’t need to be able to defend myself. I had to practically beg them to even let me go to school!”

“I don’t understand,” Zuko shook his head, “shouldn’t they want you to stop having limitations? To train you to be like everyone else? That’s what _my_ father wanted.”

“What do you mean?” Aang frowned.

“You know,” Zuko shrugged, “I’m not... not good at being normal, so he had to train me.”

Toph’s eyes narrowed, and Sokka felt something tighten in his chest.

“Train you?” Aang asked quietly.

“Yeah. Like, if I couldn’t do something that normal kids can do, he’d have to—” Zuko broke off, looking suddenly nervous. Almost guilty.

Sokka’s heart pounded in his chest, and his brain accelerated. Zuko flinched at loud noise and sudden touching. Zuko sat on his hands when they flapped. Zuko apologized whenever he didn’t understand something. Zuko had _scars_.

“He’d— he’d have to _what_ , Zuko?” Sokka choked.

Zuko rubbed the back of his head, his muscles tensing as he sat up straighter, like he was awaiting judgment.

“Just... he had to make sure I learned,” Zuko said quietly. “I’m not... I’m not good at learning.”

Katara made a little sound in the back of her throat. Something between surprise and horror at what that could imply.

“Sparky...” Toph said, almost softly, “are you saying your dad punished you for being autistic?”

Zuko ducked his head in what was clearly shame, and Sokka skipped a few breaths.

“O-only when I deserved it,” Zuko whispered.

Sokka felt his stomach clench, nausea rolling through him.

“He hurt you?” Sokka hissed.

Zuko nodded once, and the group was silent until their rides arrived.

* * *

Wednesday afternoons quickly became Jasmine Dragon time.

The tea was great, the pastries were delicious, and they got free refills for being friends with the owner’s nephew.

Sokka _loved_ watching Zuko with Iroh.

They moved around the tea shop in perfect harmony, Zuko with trays of orders, and Iroh with proverbs and jokes, pulling every customer in with his full belly laugh.

And every time Iroh passed Zuko’s path, they smiled at each other. It was the most natural, unprompted smile Sokka had seen on the other boy, and it warmed something in his chest every time he saw it.

Iroh had even promised to teach Sokka Pai Sho, which looked like an amazingly complicated strategy game. Sokka practically vibrated with conditioned happiness whenever they entered the shop.

By their second visit, Iroh had Braille menus to hand out, and a little _reserved_ card for their favorite table, decorated with two dragons tailing each other.

Sokka pointed out how cute it was when Zuko bought their drinks over, and Zuko’s ears flushed red.

It took a minute of convincing before he admitted that he’d painted the dragons himself, and that several of the dragon paintings on the wall were his, too.

Sokka just about melted.

He was amazing.

* * *

“Ugh, I need help,” Aang announced, slapping a piece of paper on to the cafeteria table. “I have to take an extra sports credit this year, or I can’t get that study abroad scholarship for the summer.”

“Come do soccer!” Sokka beamed. “We’re in the final phase of tryouts for next semester’s team.”

“Nah, that’s boring,” Toph dismissed. “Come join wrestling. We have way more fun, and you get to fight people!”

“I don’t want to fight anyone,” Aang whined.

“It’s not real fighting, it’s just sport!” Toph objected, “come on, I bet you’d enjoy it! And if you don’t want to do wrestling with me, I bet you could do some fancy martial arts thing with Zuko. Anything’s better than soccer with Sokka, anyways.”

“I’m not sure my dojo offers high school credit,” Zuko tilted his head sideways slightly. “I can ask if there’s space in the beginners class.”

“I just _said_ I don’t want to fight,” Aang snapped. Zuko shrank a little, his shoulders curving inwards.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Sokka shot Aang a pointed glare and intervened.

“I bet I’m the only one of you losers who’s ever been in a real fight!” He said delightedly, firmly changing the subject.

“I certainly haven’t been,” Katara said instantly, straightening her spine a little loftily.

“I haven’t either,” Aang nodded to Katara, “pacifism for the win.”

“What’s your definition of a real fight?” Toph smirked. “Because I’ve been in way more street fight clubs than you’d think.”

“No, I mean a _real_ fight!” Sokka said brightly, “like, someone hits you, and you hit them back, and there’s no referee or anything. Like, an argument gone crazy!” He threw his hands out in classic explosion style.

“Then I guess not,” Toph shrugged, “but I’m the reigning champion of three underground fight clubs my wrestling team got involved in.”

“Terrifying, but cool,” Sokka grinned. “Zuko?”

“You have to hit the other person back?” He frowned quizzically.

“Yeah! Otherwise it’s not a fight!”

“Then no.”

Sokka frowned a little at the absolute finality of that as an answer, and Zuko’s question niggled at the back of his head for some reason.

Only for a second though.

“Hey, Katara,” Sokka said excitedly, turning in his seat to face her with a little bounce. “Do you remember how I punched Jet?”

“Yeah, of course I remember,” she grinned. “It was very knight in shining armor of you.”

“Glad to be of service,” he quipped. “Now that was a cool fight! People shouting, everyone cheering! It was great!”

Sokka didn’t register Zuko going still beside him.

“Wait, I thought you fought Jet for Katara’s honor, not so people would cheer in the schoolyard like some underdog movie,” Toph smirked.

“He didn’t do it for my _honor_!” Katara snapped slightly, “My honor is just fine, thanks very much. Sokka was mad because Jet was cheating on me!”

“Oh, that explains it. He was sucking face with Suki, right?” Toph took a noisy bite out of her apple.

“Um, no, with Jin!”

Sokka groaned, and then glanced confusedly at Zuko as the other boy seemed to be preparing to bolt, crushing his half eaten lunch back into his box.

“Spirits, has everyone in this school made out with Jet?” Sokka rolled his eyes, turning a little pink.

“Wait, did _you_?” Katara stared, open mouthed, at her brother.

“The dude has a very sculpted face!” Sokka spluttered as Katara burst into laughter. “It was before you guys dated!”

“I _knew_ you were too invested in that fight for it to just have been me! You were defending your own honor too!”

“Ugh, are you seriously telling me that half my friends have kissed Jet? At this rate, it’ll only be Toph, Aang and Zuko left in the whole school!”

Zuko froze, his fingers fumbling over the clasp of his lunch box.

“Oh Sparky,” Toph grinned, “your heart is just _thumping_ to tell us a secret!”

Zuko flushed, his good side reddening violently.

“Zuko?” Sokka raised an eyebrow, “you’re not telling me you’ve kissed him too?”

Sokka’s entire brain leapt to joyous attention. Finally, confirmation. Zuko liked _boys_.

Zuko liked _boys_ , which meant Zuko could like _him_ , and everything was suddenly warmer and brighter and more precious.

“W-we... we... dated,” Zuko stammered softly, “t-the whole of last y-year.”

There was a strained moment of quiet, and Sokka’s brain recoiled as the warmth fizzled out.

“But... _I_ dated him last year,” Katara said quietly, “and I know Jin did too.”

“I-I know,” he rubbed the back of his neck, his other hand twitching wildly under the table.

“Wait, so when he cheated on me with Jin, and then on Jin with Suki, the whole thing was cheating on you as well?”

“I guess,” Zuko tensed, every muscle clenched tight. “Bottom of the pile, huh?” He tried for a self-deprecating laugh, but the tremble in his voice undermined him somewhat.

“That little shit!” Sokka growled, looking round the cafeteria as though trying to find Jet to fight right then.

“It’s fine, Sokka, it’s not a big deal...” Zuko tried.

Katara cut him off instantly. “Of course it’s a big deal!”

“You guys dated a whole school year and he was making out with everyone else the whole time? That’s all kinds of fucked up!” Sokka was practically seeing red.

“I’m gonna beat that kid’s ass,” Toph curled her lip.

“No! It’s fine, it’s _fine_ , I deserved it,” Zuko hissed desperately. They were attracting attention.

Sokka and Katara whipped away from their search for Jet and stared at him.

Zuko’s clenched fist vibrated on the table and he shoved it under his leg, suppressing the movement.

“What the _fuck_ does that mean?” Katara stared, wide eyed at Zuko. Sokka’s heart sank.

He was suddenly glad he wasn’t alone in whatever awful stuff he was certain was about to come out of Zuko’s mouth.

“He was only hanging around with other people because I asked him not to tell anyone about us. I wasn’t... I didn’t want anyone to... to _know_...” he glared at the ceiling, gesturing up and down his torso with the hand that wasn’t clamped under his thigh like he was trying to encompass his entire being, “because I couldn’t risk... I asked him not to tell, and he said he’d need to be seen with other people to... to make it seem realistic, but then he started getting into all those fights about it, and I tried... I tried to break up with him, but he didn’t want to... so we... we didn’t. Break up.”

“That _slimy_ , evil little shit,” Sokka snarled.

“It wasn’t fair of me to ask him to hide it,” Zuko insisted.

“It wasn’t fair of _him_ to be such a dick!” Sokka snapped.

Zuko shrank back, away from the rising anger around the table.

“It’s fine,” Zuko sounded just a little like he was begging, “we did break up, later on, and he hasn’t spoken to me since.”

“That doesn’t make it _better_ , Zuko,” Katara rounded on him. He visibly drew back, and his hand escaped from under his thigh to vibrate under the table.

“How come he changed his mind and let you break up with him?” Aang asked, softness and anger warring in his voice.

Zuko tensed as he curled forward a little.

“He... he just,” Zuko’s eyes flitted around the cafeteria, making sure no one else was listening, “he wanted me to do something, and I said no. We had... a fight... and he left.”

Sokka’s stomach churned. Zuko had literally _just_ said he’d never been in a fight because he’d never hurt someone back.

“He hit you?” Sokka croaked, barely above a whisper.

Zuko’s shoulders twitched into a shrug.

The others were silent. Katara was staring, open mouthed. Aang chewed on his lip. Toph’s fists clenched on the table.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Zuko said quietly, eyes focused on the table.

“Spirits, Zuko,” Sokka breathed. He felt tears stinging in the corners of his eyes. How could he just pass it off like it was nothing?

“You should do gymnastics, Aang,” Zuko put the lid onto his lunch box, stood up, and walked hurriedly out of the cafeteria.

The silence around the table was deafening.

Sokka hated Jet.

He hated that vulnerable, anxious, quivering look on Zuko’s face.

He hated every new thing they’d learned about Zuko.

He hated how completely powerless it made him feel.

* * *

Zuko told him about the scar. About how his father had spent the majority of his childhood smacking him around, and berating him, and had thrown him away after mutilating his face.

How he’d chosen to go back, and how Sokka had completely missed almost three months of his classmate’s deterioration and had paid absolutely no attention to what amounted to torture.

How his father had almost killed him for the crimes of being autistic, and gay, and how his sister had tased him into heart failure when he’d woken up.

How he wanted Sokka just as much as Sokka wanted him.

It had been a rough evening.

“Are you okay?” Katara hovered over him as he lay on the couch, staring up at the ceiling with glazed eyes, Zuko’s stilted explanations echoing in his ears.

Sokka moaned.

“I’m not _not_ okay.”

“Well I guess that’s better than actually being not okay,” she rolled her eyes. Not particularly gently, Katara shoved his head out of the way and slipped onto the couch, pulling his head back to lay in her lap. “What’s up?”

“I... I don’t think I can really tell you,” he bit his lip.

“Zuko came over after school, right?” She raised an eyebrow. Sokka blushed a little.

“Yeah, he was here until about an hour ago.”

“Did something happen with you two?” She smirked.

“No!” He scowled up at her. “He didn’t feel good, so I took him home.”

“Oh. Is he okay?”

Sokka sighed. His stomach hurt. He didn’t really know how much he could say to Katara. Obviously none of the details. But... she was his sister.

“He’ll be okay. I’m just... he told me some stuff, and now I feel all gross inside.”

“Indigestion?”

“No, ‘Tara, I’m serious.” Sokka rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes. Katara’s smile disappeared immediately.

“I’m sorry,” she put a hand on his head, her thumb stroking gently in apology. Sokka nodded.

“He told me how he got his scar. And some... really messed up shit that happened after. I... I _did_ ask, but I wasn’t really expecting... I didn’t think it would be...”

Sokka noticed with a rush of mild horror that his throat was constricting and his eyes were burning. He’d had to try so hard not to cry while Zuko was spilling his deepest secrets, and now it was all rushing to the surface.

He wiped the first tears away with his forearm, but Katara reached for his hand and let him hold it.

“I almost wish he hadn’t told me,” Sokka whispered. “I kinda wish I didn’t know.”

Katara hummed sympathetically. She bit her lip, worrying about their new friend.

“It’s not my story to tell,” Sokka squeezed her hand, “but I just... I wish I wasn’t the only one, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Katara wiped another tear from the side of his face as it trickled down towards his ear.

“It was really bad, Katara. And it was all just so... _normal_ , for him.” His voice cracked.

“But I thought...” she trailed off, her own horror spreading over her face, “I’d always thought it was an accident? But if you’re saying... did someone _do_ that to him?”

“I _can’t,_ ” Sokka said firmly, with a hint of begging in his tone, “I’m not going to tell you anything.”

“I _bet_ someone did. I’ve always thought it had a weird shape. And there’s no way you could get a burn that deep just from falling on something hot. Shit, is that why he lives with his uncle? Did someone in his _family_ do that? Spirits, Sokka!” Her voice rose to a shout, gripping his hand more and more tightly.

“Katara!” Sokka snapped, sitting up out of her lap. “Stop! It’s none of your business! Just leave it!”

“I was only asking!”

“Yeah, well leave it alone! He’s got enough to worry about without you asking him questions or making it look like you’re pitying him!”

“I’m not pitying him!” She snapped back. “It’s not pity to want to try and help someone when they’re having a rough time!”

“He’s not having a rough time _now_ though! It was years ago, and he doesn’t even _live_ with his dad anymore!”

There was a long moment of quiet where they stared at each other in absolute horror.

“Spirits,” Sokka hissed, running a hand through his hair and deflating even as his sister seemed to grow with righteous anger.

“His _dad_ did that to him?” She roared. “ _Years_ ago? What the _fuck_ , Sokka!”

Sokka didn’t reply. He bent over, resting his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees.

“You knew it was ages ago,” he said quietly. “He came back with it after missing like six weeks of school in eighth grade. You’ve never even seen him without it.”

“But... did someone in his family really do that to him? His dad?” She whispered. Sokka glanced over and saw her eyes full of unshed tears.

He nodded slowly.

“You can’t talk to him about it, okay? You can’t let him know you know, or he’ll never trust me with anything like that again. Okay? Please?”

“I... yeah, of course. Of course I won’t bring it up. That’s... that’s so horrible...”

“He’s okay,” Sokka pulled her into a hug. “He’s alright now.”

* * *

They didn’t kiss in third period.

They sat in an empty classroom in near silence, and Sokka’s brain oscillated uncomfortably between longing to take Zuko’s hand and kiss him, and thinking about the things he’d confessed the night before.

He looked at the scar, and thought about how long you’d have to press an iron into a child’s face to damage it that badly.

He watched Zuko’s fingers move in trembly patterns, and thought about how cruel you’d have to be to grab his hands and shove them down. How cruel you’d have to be to follow up with a backhander around the face. How much crueler you’d have to be to do that to a thirteen year old.

A ten year old.

A four year old.

He looked at Zuko’s thin wrists and thought about how cold you’d have to be to refuse to feed your son.

He looked at Zuko’s worn, baggy t-shirt and imagined him in starched button ups with stiff labels in the collars and thought about the callousness that went into finding small ways to torture a kid who couldn’t bear roughness on his skin.

They didn’t kiss in third period.

* * *

Sokka spent the rest of the day researching the local parks on his phone under his desk.

He ruled out the one nearest to Zuko’s old neighborhood, in case it was where his bastard of a father had dumped him.

Which left two that met his requirements. He chose the one nearest his own house, and settled on a plan.

He told Zuko he’d meet him at the Jasmine Dragon, at the end of his shift, and skipped soccer practice in favor of a trip to the grocery store.

Iroh grinned knowingly at him when he showed up at the tea shop five minutes after Zuko’s shift with a back pack full of snacks.

“Home by nine, please, boys,” Iroh wriggled his eyebrow and Zuko flushed.

“Uncle!” He protested, shoving his way out of the door.

“You have your phone?” Iroh put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from running off.

“Yes,” Zuko scowled.

“And your wallet? Your keys?”

“Yes!”

“And you know the boundary lines?”

“Of course I do. Can I _go_ now?” Zuko crossed his arms over his chest, his scowl deepening.

“Be safe,” Iroh smiled at them both, “and have a good evening.”

“Yes, sir!” Sokka mock saluted with a grin.

“Good _bye_ , Uncle,” Zuko stepped out of his grasp and closed the door on him, careful not to push it too hard.

“Goodbye!” Iroh called out from behind the door, and Sokka heard a distinct chuckle as the man turned back in to the tea shop.

“I like him,” Sokka grinned.

“Me too,” Zuko sighed, almost petulantly.

“C-can I hold your hand?” Sokka bit his lip. When he’d dated Suki in freshman year, he’d never asked for that kind of thing. They’d just naturally come together, and it hadn’t even taken a thought. But he wasn’t going to just grab one of Zuko’s hands, not when they expressed so many of his feelings.

“Um... y-yeah,” Zuko stammered a little, “sure.”

Sokka held out his hand, and let Zuko interlock their fingers. His hand was warm, and soft, with callouses across his palm from holding swords.

It sent a warm shudder through Sokka’s belly.

They walked quietly for a little while, weaving out of the main streets towards the park.

Sokka relished in the warmth and weight of Zuko’s hand in his, and experimented a little, squeezing very slightly tighter in different places, until he found a particular tightness across Zuko’s joints that relaxed his entire arm.

“What did your uncle mean about boundary lines?” He asked, mostly for something to say to distract him from the utter joy of finding that perfect level of pressure.

“I’m not allowed within half a mile of my father’s house,” Zuko said plainly, “we have a restraining order. He’s not allowed near me, and I’m not supposed to go near him.”

“Oh,” Sokka deflated slightly. That was darker than he’d expected. “That makes sense.”

There was another moment of quiet as they turned off the last busy street into a residential area.

“Does your uncle know we’re... you know?”

“No,” Zuko said curtly.

“Okay,” Sokka nodded, “I’ll be subtle then.”

Sokka sighed. He squeezed Zuko’s hand again in apology, and Zuko squeezed back. He needed to find some topic that wasn’t so heavy.

“Where are we going?” Zuko asked.

“Depends. Are you good with leaving it a surprise for five more minutes, or do you want to know now?”

Zuko tilted his head slightly, not looking at Sokka. Sokka held his breath for a moment, feeling out his response, taking in the little twitch of his fingers.

“I suppose five minutes is okay,” he considered. “But I don’t normally like surprises.”

“That’s fine,” Sokka said quickly, “it’s a good surprise, I promise.”

Zuko didn’t reply, but his fingers twitched again, still laced with Sokka’s.

Sokka beamed, unable till keep the happiness that he was being _trusted_ off his face.

They walked for another couple of minutes in silence before they reached the park, and Sokka took them straight to the large pond on the near side.

Zuko stopped suddenly, and his fingers convulsed in Sokka’s.

“We’re going to the duck pond?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah! Is that okay?”

“I... I... yeah,” he breathed, “that’s okay.”

* * *

Sokka unpacked their snacks as they sat down on the edge of the water, looking out into the sunset.

Zuko didn’t even look at the food, his eyes focused completely on the ducks swimming across their field of vision.

Sokka’s heart kept skipping beats, watching his face relax into an almost dopey smile.

He opened a bag of chips and took a handful.

“I bought some oats to throw out to them,” Sokka pulled a box out of his bag.

Zuko turned to look at him, a little frown creasing his forehead.

“Not bread?” He asked, almost testily.

“Nope,” Sokka confirmed, smiling, “I know you shouldn’t give bread to ducks.”

“It’s a common misconception,” Zuko nodded. “But it can swell up in their stomachs and make them sick.”

Sokka’s heart melted. Spirits, he cared so damned much about the _ducks_.

“Want to throw oats, then?”

Zuko nodded and extended his hand for Sokka to pour some out for him.

Once he had a solid handful, he inched closer to the water and held out his empty hand, transferring a few oats into his other palm.

He sat perfectly still, waiting for the ducks to notice him. Slowly, they started coming, and he threw a couple into the water.

Sokka had to hold in a little noise of excitement when several ducks flipped upside down in the water to collect their snack, their tails bobbing in the air.

Zuko smiled, and put a few more oats onto his palm, wiggling his fingers a little in the water.

Slowly, the ducks started coming to him, and within a few minutes, he had four eating right out of his hand.

Sokka watched in absolute, rapturous delight.

“Zu, they’re so cute!” He whispered, barely repressing a squeal. It was hardly the ducks that were the cutest thing, but Sokka wasn’t going to tell him that. Yet.

Zuko just smiled, the edge of his scar shifting slightly to accommodate it.

They sat quietly until Zuko’s handful of oats was gone, and the ducks had grown bored of them, swimming away again.

“We didn’t kiss in third period,” Zuko pointed out.

Sokka almost choked on a chip, but managed to swallow it down with only a little coughing.

“No,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “no, we did not.”

“Did you bring me here so we could kiss?” Zuko raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Um... kinda?” Sokka flushed. Spirits, this had been easier with Suki.

“Okay,” he smiled a little, and didn’t move.

“Okay.” Sokka felt his heart flip. Was that it? Was he supposed to kiss Zuko now?

“This is really nice,” Zuko said quietly, looking out over the pond. “My uncle, my cousin, my mother and I used to come and feed the ducks every few weeks when I was little.”

“You have a cousin?”

“He died.”

“Oh.”

“He was in a car crash. Uncle disappeared for a couple of years afterwards. He says he learned to meditate from a monk at the top of a mountain, but I think he made that up.”

Sokka chuckled despite himself. The idea of Iroh sitting cross legged with some monk on a mountain did sound faintly ridiculous.

“I’m sorry about your cousin,” he sobered up.

“It was a long time ago,” Zuko shrugged. Sokka didn’t miss the slightly wistful look on his face, or how his hands fluttered slightly more erratically.

“Still.”

“Yeah.”

There was a long pause.

“So...” Sokka tailed off, his stomach full of squirming butterflies.

“I’d like you to kiss me,” Zuko said suddenly, his words coming a little rushed as he turned to face Sokka.

Sokka reeled at the starkness of his tone, and, without giving himself any more time to think, he leaned forward.

Zuko’s lips were soft, and the unscarred side of his face was smooth and warm against Sokka’s skin.

Zuko let out a tiny little moan that shot straight through Sokka’s stomach, and he was _gone_.

He thought he might never, ever want to kiss anyone else again. 

* * *

Sokka got to speak to his Dad once a month, when his unit were scheduled back at base, and he had access to a computer with internet.

Usually, they talked about sports, and how Gran-Gran was doing, and shared some stories about their every day lives.

But Sokka wanted to talk about Zuko. He needed advice.

They started off their conversation normally, and Hakoda told him something dumb Bato had done the week before that had ended up with Bato doing six hundred press ups as retribution for losing his bet.

Sokka laughed, and there was a moment of quiet between them.

“What’s up, son?” Hakoda smiled through the grainy video feed.

Sokka sighed.

“I... I think I’m about to start properly dating someone.”

“Oh that’s wonderful!” Hakoda grinned. “Tell me about them!”

“Do you... do you remember Zuko? The kid who showed up in eighth grade with a massive scar on his face?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Hakoda said a little darkly. “Pakku told me he moved in with his uncle? Apparently the man is in Pakku’s Pai Sho circle.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Well, we’ve kinda started being friends. And now we’re kinda... doing more than that. And it’s great. He’s really sweet. And smart, and funny. He’s super passionate about theater, and martial arts, and he’s so sweet with his uncle it’s almost sickening,” Sokka smiled fondly.

“He sounds like a good fit for you,” Hakoda’s hand twitched into the screen, almost as though he was reaching out across the continents to touch Sokka’s arm.

“I think he is. I really like him, Dad. But... I wanted your advice on something.”

“Of course,” Hakoda raised his eyebrows invitingly.

“He... he had a really... tough time. When he was a kid. Before he moved in with Iroh. His father was... not good.”

“Ah,” Hakoda sighed.

“Yeah. He...” Sokka took a deep breath, and said it out loud for the first time, “he was abused. Pretty... pretty badly. His dad was the one who burned his face, and he did a lot of other really horrible stuff. I don’t... I don’t know how to...” Sokka felt tears stinging his eyes and wiped them viciously away.

“Oh Sokka,” Hakoda sighed, his eyes wide and sad, “I’m proud of you, you know that?”

“W-what?”

“You’ve always been fiercely empathetic. You care so much about the people around you.”

“But I don’t know how to make it better for him,” Sokka sniffed.

“You _can’t_ , son. Whatever you do, he will always carry those experiences with him. You can’t take those away. But there are always things you can do to make your relationship more comfortable.”

“What can I do?” Sokka stopped himself from grabbing a pen to take notes.

“Take it slow,” Hakoda moved his hand slowly across the screen. “Never push him to tell you things, or to do anything he seems reluctant to do. Listen when he talks, but don’t make every conversation focus on the worst parts of his life. Create new memories and experiences together. And... Sokka, you know I love you?”

“Course I do.”

“Good. You have a tendency to... pour more of yourself into things than you should. I want you to be careful here, okay? You need to understand that you can’t be everything for this boy. You can’t be his parent, and his therapist, and his brother, and his friend and his boyfriend all at once. I know you’re going to want to. Just... make sure you take time for yourself. Make sure you’re getting something out of the relationship too. Do you understand?”

“I... yeah,” Sokka said reluctantly. “I understand.”

“Good. I’m so proud of you, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Sokka smiled, leaning just a little closer to the camera. “I know.”

* * *

Sokka honestly thought Iroh hadn’t seen them kissing at Zuko’s dojo.

It hadn’t even been a big thing, not like their first kiss at the duck pond. He’d just got swept up in the moment, watching Zuko demonstrate some overly complex movement that made him look simultaneously ridiculously strong and breathtakingly graceful.

Sokka hadn’t been able to resist ducking under his swords and pulling their faces together.

But Zuko came into school the next morning looking unusually tired, and cornered him after Spanish.

“I... I told Uncle I’m gay,” Zuko said quietly, looking down at the floor by Sokka’s feet.

Sokka’s chest tightened. Iroh didn’t seem like the type to care, but Zuko didn’t exactly have a good track record coming out to his family.

And then it hit him. Iroh must have _seen_. Must have bought it up with Zuko. Which meant that Sokka had accidentally outed him to the only family member he had left.

“D-did it go okay?” He clenched his fist, desperately hoping that it had been fine, that nothing bad was going to come out of his mistake.

“Yeah,” Zuko whispered. “He said there’s nothing... nothing wrong with it.”

“Good,” Sokka released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “That’s good.”

“He let me hug him,” Zuko bit his lip.

That was... an odd way to phrase it.

“That’s good, right?”

“Yeah,” Zuko sighed.

“But it’s not what you’d expected?” Sokka felt his heart break for the hundredth time as Zuko shook his head.

“I guess it didn’t make any difference,” he shrugged, the little line through his forehead deepening in confusion.

“I’m glad, Zuko. It _shouldn’t_ make any difference. I told my Dad last year. I think I was less nervous because Dad’s bi too, but it was still scary.”

“But it was okay?” Zuko looked into his face.

“Yeah,” Sokka smiled. “Yeah, it was okay.”

* * *

Sokka was practically vibrating in his seat as the lights went down over the theater.

Iroh was to his right, Katara to his left, Toph and Aang further down the row, and Zuko... Zuko was probably backstage still, getting ready for his cue.

Sokka still couldn’t believe that he’d found out about Zuko’s play from _Iroh_. They’d been hanging out in Zuko’s room when Iroh had come in asking if Zuko needed anything more for his costume, and Zuko had flushed bright red and made awkward shooing motions with his hands until Iroh had left.

And now Sokka was sitting in a real, actual theater, waiting for the real, actual curtain to rise.

The play opened up with three men talking in a living room, the set sparse and the men projecting their voices a little too loudly.

And then Zuko came on stage.

And he looked so different Sokka didn’t even recognize him.

The scar had been lightened considerably by a heavy sheen of make up. He stood tall and confident, his fingers laced behind his back as he rocked imperiously on the balls of his feet.

He delivered every line perfectly, his face a master study in the character’s feelings.

It was like Sokka wasn’t watching Zuko at all. It was like watching a completely different person.

Sokka just stared at him, breathless, as he stood with his back straight, a deliberate aristocratic nonchalance to every muscle, and talked to the three men as though their characters were real.

He was _remarkable_.

* * *

They met Zuko outside after the show.

Iroh clasped a hand over his shoulder and pressed circles into his collarbone with his thumb, smiling widely.

“I am so proud of you, nephew, that was an excellent performance,” he said quietly, clearly meant for Zuko’s ears only.

Zuko’s mouth twitched into a shy smile, and he ducked his head away, obviously unwilling to accept the praise.

Sokka found himself swearing to _shower_ the other boy in affirmation to make that stop.

“Zuko...” he stared at his boyfriend in absolute awe, “babe, that was... you’re so... you were _amazing_.”

Zuko hunched in on himself a little, but Sokka saw his smile widen.

The others gave their congratulations too, and Sokka took an extra second to grip his hand tight before he and Iroh walked off in the opposite direction.

“You are extraordinary,” he whispered. Zuko let himself be pulled into a tight hug, and Sokka let him go, waving goodbye over his shoulder.

“Spirits, Sokka, you guys are so gross,” Katara shoved him playfully as the gang walked to the back of the car park to wait for Toph’s parents to pick her up.

“Tui and La...” Sokka whispered, “did you _see_ him, though? It was... it was almost as good as watching him sword fight.”

“Does your heart beat that fast when he’s sparring too?” Toph cackled, “between the two of you, I can hardly hear myself think.”

“Shut up,” Sokka grinned.

* * *

Before Sokka’s hand had drifted to Zuko’s belt, everything had been fine.

They’d been kissing, curled up on Zuko’s bed, their feet tangled up in each other, touches skirting under t-shirts.

But then Sokka’s hand had moved downwards, his fingers working at the belt buckle, and Zuko had wrenched away so hard he’d almost fallen off the bed.

“Shit, what’s wrong?” Sokka raised his hands slightly in surrender, careful not to move to fast.

Zuko’s breath was ragged, his nostrils flaring with the effort of drawing oxygen to his lungs.

“D-don’t,” he forced out, “please.”

Sokka felt his stomach drop and his heart twist with the smallness of Zuko’s voice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do anything you didn’t want, I promise.”

Zuko scrubbed a hand down the unscarred side of his face, and tried to breathe.

Sokka ached to reach out to him, to hold his arms steady, to put that pressure across his shoulders that helped him relax.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Zuko closed his eyes, and shook his head once. He took a shaky breath through his teeth, and Sokka heard the dampness in it.

“That’s okay,” Sokka slowly reached out across the gap between their bodies and rubbed a hand up and down Zuko’s arm. “Do you want to just snuggle up and watch some tv?”

Zuko shook his head again, and Sokka frowned.

“No, no, it’s fine, you c-can keep g-going. It’s fine,” he sounded like he was trying to persuade himself, and that was absolutely not enough for Sokka.

“No, babe, I’m not going to,” he said gently.

Zuko _flinched_.

“I said it’s _fine_ ,” he growled, a little breathless.

“Zuko...” Sokka frowned deeper. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at _all_.

Zuko reached out and grabbed his wrist, yanking his hand back to his hip. Sokka felt his body tremble under his touch, and he pulled away.

“Just do it,” Zuko’s breathing came shaky and uneven. His hand darted forward to grab Sokka’s again, but Sokka pulled out of his grasp. “Please!”

The desperation in that _please_ , the fear and longing and earth shattering _sadness_ , caught the breath in Sokka’s lungs.

“No,” he croaked. “I... I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he was practically hyperventilating, “you c-can... you can f-fuck me, if you want.”

Sokka stared, his eyes wide with horrified shock. Zuko’s chest rose and fell in uneven patterns, every muscle a taught line of unbearable tension.

“Babe... I... I wasn’t even going to...”

Sokka had no idea what was happening, his mind completely blank other than the high pitched scream of a thought that this was _wrong_.

He wasn’t planning to... he wasn’t going to just... they hadn’t even touched each other below the belt yet, he had no intention of skipping straight from making out to sex! He didn’t even own condoms!

Sokka felt his brain spinning out of control, caught on the fact that he hadn’t even prepared for this. He didn’t own anything that would let them have sex safely. Was he supposed to have bought condoms? Was it weird that he didn’t even own lube? He had no idea.

And shit, shit, _shit_ , Zuko was _trembling_ , and he let out a tiny, hurt little _whimper_ , and all Sokka could think about was that everything was _wrong_ and he didn’t want to have sex _anyway_ and he didn’t own any _condoms_.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko’s voice cracked, and his hands moved up to his face, his left hand titled slightly to cover the scar, “I... I promise... you can just... please don’t... don’t go.”

Sokka’s heart twisted violently in his chest.

“Zu, baby, I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” he whispered, pulling Zuko’s hands away from his face, where his fingernails were staring to dig into skin.

He couldn’t pry Zuko’s left hand off his scar, so he left it there. “I’m staying right here. Right here, with you, I swear.”

“Y-you can do it, it’s fine, just... don’t go away.”

Sokka shuddered at the utter wretchedness in his raspy voice.

He didn’t know what was happening. He didn’t know what to do.

“I... I don’t need you do to anything,” he said quietly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Zuko looked at him, studying his face. Sokka looked down, raking his eyes over Zuko’s sweat-damp skin and rumpled clothes, watching his muscles clench and tremor in panic.

Watched his fingertips go white with the pressure he was putting over his scar.

Suddenly, all the tension disappeared from his frame, leaving him limp and still on the mattress.

His hands dropped to his sides, leaving behind white circles across his burned forehead.

“Can I hug you?” Sokka asked softly. He waited for the nod, and gathered the other boy up in his arms. “What was that?”

“I... I just...” Zuko shivered against his chest, and Sokka thought he heard a little sob escape him. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sokka said again, moving his hand up to pet his hair, running blunt fingernails across his scalp. “Can you tell me why you thought I would?”

“I... I...” Zuko took in a deep, wet breath that rattled through his lungs. “I don’t... I said _no_ , Sokka.”

“I know you did,” he wrapped his arm more tightly around Zuko’s chest. “I know, that’s why I stopped.”

“But... I said no, and you’re _still here_.”

Sokka closed his eyes, a wave of understanding crashing over him.

“That’s why Jet left? Because you said no?” Zuko nodded, his movements tiny and contained, and Sokka held him closer. “I’m not leaving, babe. You can say no every single time forever, and I still won’t leave.”

Zuko shuddered, bringing his legs up to curl as small as possible against Sokka.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Spirits,” Sokka said under his breath, “there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“But you wanted—”

“I _never_ want things you don’t want,” Sokka said emphatically. “Never! We both have veto power. We _always_ stop if someone says no. I should have asked before I even started. I _never_ want you to feel like you have to do anything to keep me here. I love you, Zuko.”

“Y-you shouldn’t,” he whispered, turning his face against Sokka’s neck. “You shouldn’t. You don’t _know_.”

“What don’t I know?”

“I...” Sokka felt dampness gathering near his shoulder, and pulled his arms impossibly tighter around the other boy as he shook. “I... there are things... I haven’t told you.”

Sokka’s stomach cramped. He recognized the subtle whine in Zuko’s voice. The fear and the panic and the sheer misery in his tone.

It was the same voice he’d used when he’d told Sokka about the burn.

The same voice he’d used when he’d described his sister’s attempt to kill him.

The same voice he used for most of the devastating revelations he made about his past.

Sokka tried to breathe normally, preparing himself for something new.

“I... my... my f-father...”

Sokka’s brain froze. Horror rose like bile in his throat. No. No. It wasn’t _possible_.

“He didn’t... he didn’t just hit me, Sokka.”

Zuko sounded as sick as Sokka felt.

“It... it hurt... really bad... but... I thought... I thought... I _needed_ him to love me.”

Sokka couldn’t breathe.

“I had to prove I was worth _something_.”

Sokka’s fingers went numb as he watched them stroke Zuko’s hair, unfeeling.

“I just... I begged him to stop, and he wouldn’t, and he’s so much _bigger_ than me.”

Sokka’s stomach revolted and he had to breathe because if he didn’t he’d throw up.

“I just... he wanted... I had to...”

Sokka couldn’t hear any more.

* * *

He went through all the motions of supportiveness.

He listened. To details he’d never wanted to know. To things he’d barely known were _things_.

Listened to Zuko’s shuddering rationalizations, his shaky explanations of how he’d thought it was _justified_. Thought it was _discipline_. Thought it would make him straight, and better, and _worthy_ to live with his father and sister again.

Listened to the little sobs that tore through the story.

Watched Zuko’s arms wrap around his stomach, like it still hurt, and listened to his faltering reassurance that it wasn’t really anything so bad as Sokka must be thinking.

Not nearly so bad as _rape_.

Just being held down and beaten into submission and roughly penetrated until he begged for mercy that didn’t come.

A deserved punishment.

A father teaching his son a necessary lesson.

Sokka’s teeth chattered together despite the warmth of Zuko’s body as it pressed into his.

His brain couldn’t formulate responses. His tongue felt heavy and dead in his mouth, horror and crippling sadness overwhelming his mind and body.

The sniffling cries settled into damp breathing, and Sokka gently detached himself from Zuko’s grip.

On autopilot, unable to fully comprehend or feel his actions, his soul too small for his body, Sokka took care of everything.

He found Zuko a set of pajamas and turned away for him to change.

He hugged tight, with the perfect pressure, soothing away the hitching breaths as they settled.

He kissed Zuko’s forehead as he drifted to sleep, fingers curled into Sokka’s t-shirt and still shivering.

He replaced his body with a pillow under Zuko’s arm, and slipped away.

He drove home, barely seeing the road, barely keeping the tremors from his fingers as he gripped the steering wheel.

He didn’t wipe away the tears as they streamed down his cheeks.

He came woodenly into the house, and felt oxygen hit his lungs for the first time since Zuko’s mumbled _he didn’t just hit me_.

“Hey, Sokka!” Katara sounded so warm. So happy. So young. He thought he might never feel young like that again.

She was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked up under her as she watched some documentary, her smile wide and full.

“Hi,” he croaked out.

The smile slid off her face.

“What’s wrong? I thought you were with Zuko?”

“I—I left,” he felt numb.

“What happened? Did you guys—?” She raised an eyebrow as suggestively as she could, and Sokka felt a fierce wave of anger and nausea swoop over him.

Feeling burned back into his limbs.

Rage filled him. The unfairness of everything, the pain he knew that _bastard_ had caused, his own stupid, _stupid_ inability to know what to do. It tore through him, ripping at his insides, clawing and burning and _hurting_.

“No, Katara,” he snarled, “we didn’t have _sex_ , Spirits! I’m never touching him again, _fuck_!”

He whipped around and kicked his shoe across the room. He wanted something to hit, something to bite, something to scream at until there was nothing left of this feeling inside him.

“Did he do something to you?” Katara looked ready to walk out and beat the shit out of his boyfriend.

“No, he didn’t _do_ anything to me!” Sokka shouted. “ _I_ fucked up. _Again_!”

“Damnit Sokka, you didn’t manage to run into another trigger trying to have sex with him, did you? What did you do, hit him? What could you possibly have done to... to...” Katara’s eyes widened as her brother collapsed onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. As quickly as it had come, the anger ebbed away, leaving him empty and hollow again. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

His voice echoed in his own head. He was empty. Like a shell. Like nothing would ever matter anymore, because nothing could hurt more than this.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Katara flung herself down next to him and leaned their shoulders together. “He... he wasn’t...”

“I’m not telling you,” Sokka rasped, trying to fuel his anger again, because it was something other than the chasm of empty inside. “I’m not telling anyone! Apparently literally no one other than Iroh knows about it, and he wants it to stay that way.”

“Sokka...” Katara moaned, “this... that’s a really big deal.”

“I know,” he rubbed his palms into his eyes, groaning miserably.

“Is he okay?”

“I doubt it,” Sokka said bitterly.

“Spirits...”

“He says... he says nothing _really_ happened,” Sokka tried, finally looking up at her, eyes practically begging. Maybe... maybe it wasn’t as bad as it felt? Maybe it was like Zuko said. Just something that sucked, but was over. That wasn’t this awful, horrible thing Sokka was thinking. “He says,” he flushed red, “he says it was just... like... _fingers_... and stuff.”

Katara slapped his arm hard.

“That’s not _nothing_!” She hissed. “That’s so fucked up!”

Sokka curled forward and rested his forehead on his legs, wrapping his arms around his head.

“I know,” he mumbled into his jeans, “I know. But he... he really wanted it not to be a big thing. He _really_ wants it not to matter.”

“But it _does_ matter. That kind of thing... you’re gonna need to be so much more careful with him, Sokka.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispered. “I don’t think I can research this in the damned library. This is just... it’s beyond me. I don’t know what I’m _doing_. People have fucked him over so badly, and it’s so _unfair_.”

“I know,” Katara said soothingly, putting her arm around him and pulling him back to lean against her shoulder.

“I don’t think I can fix it,” Sokka said under his breath, desperately holding in the tears threatening to overcome him. “I can’t make it better.”

“No. You can’t fix it,” she ran a hand through his hair, “but you’re good for him. You’re helping.”

“I’m not,” Sokka couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. “I’m _not_! I make him _talk_ , and I _know_ he doesn’t want to. He has to relive all that _shit_ whenever I ask him to, and I don’t think he even knows he can say no.”

“He wouldn’t tell you if he didn’t want to,” Katara squeezed him tighter.

“He _would_ , though. I’m not sure he understands that he doesn’t have to give me everything I want. I... I... I can’t help thinking... that he’s just... doing as he’s told.” His voice broke, and he turned to bury his face in her chest, completely unable to stop himself from crying.

“Oh Sokka,” Katara added her own sympathetic tears, “he loves you. I know he does.”

“He _shouldn’t_ ,” his voice broke. “I was useless! I touched him, and I didn’t even ask, and he fucking... _cowered_ away from me!” Sokka fisted his hands in her t-shirt. “Like he thought I was going to _hit_ him! All because of—” he broke off, unwilling to name the guilty parties to his sister, “because I didn’t _fucking ask first_! This is driving me _crazy_ , Katara!”

And for once, Katara was speechless, and she just wrapped her arms tighter around him and they didn’t talk, because there wasn’t anything to say.

There wasn’t anything to make it better.

“I want Mom,” Sokka whispered into her chest.

That didn’t help either.

* * *

Sokka was a bundle of confused nerves the next morning when he arrived at the Jasmine Dragon exactly three minutes after he knew Zuko’s early shift ended.

He’d spent the first half of his morning at a flower shop, awkwardly looking up the meanings of different flowers on his phone.

By the time an assistant had come to ask if he needed help, he’d almost decided that flowers were a bad plan, and that they were difficult, and he didn’t even know if Zuko liked flowers, let alone if he’d accept them as a gift from his boyfriend. Maybe that was... kind of gay?

Sokka had shaken his head at himself for that thought.

Eventually, he’d settled on an awkward group of three flowers.

A yellow rose, for friendship.

A blue hyacinth, which, according to the assistant, represented making peace.

And an already slightly wilted orchid, which apparently symbolized sincerity.

He’d wanted to get a bunch of roses, but they were wildly expensive, and he wasn’t exactly rolling in cash.

So he walked into the Jasmine Dragon with his flowers behind his back, his stomach rolling with nervousness.

Zuko was just hanging up his green apron when Sokka approached.

He was beautiful.

The morning light shone from behind him, lightening up his dark hair and casting his slender body into perfectly proportioned shadows.

“Good morning,” Sokka said, awkwardly formally.

Zuko started slightly, and turned to face him, a tiny smile inching across his face.

“Good morning,” he replied, his voice delightfully rich. Sokka felt a pang of awkwardness. Was he still allowed to think Zuko was pretty, now that he knew?

He shook his head at himself for that, too. Ridiculous thought.

But it niggled at him, and he focused his eyes on Zuko’s face, rather than letting them wander over his shoulders and hands like he wanted.

“I, um, I got you a gift,” Sokka said awkwardly, bringing the flowers out from behind his back.

Zuko’s eyebrow shot up into his hair, and Sokka practically shoved the mismatched flowers at him in his eagerness not to be standing in a cafe in front of a pretty boy holding flowers.

“Um... thanks?” Zuko took the flowers and stared at them, his small smile growing slightly.

“Can we talk?” Sokka asked again.

Zuko’s smile vanished, and he tore his gaze away from the flowers to stare at the floor.

“Sure, Sokka,” he said quietly.

He led the way out of the shop, and they walked quietly until they found a bench.

“I... I wanted to talk about last night,” Sokka said softly as they sat down. “Not... not about your father. A-about me.”

Zuko frowned, but didn’t interrupt.

“I... I crossed a line,” Sokka whispered, “and I didn’t even know I was doing it. I... I think we should... talk about that.”

“What is there to talk about?” Zuko frowned harder at the ground. Sokka sighed.

“I... I’d like to know if...” spirits, why was he so _awkward_ , “if there are things you don’t want me to do. So that I can avoid crossing lines.”

“I don’t understand,” Zuko said blankly.

“Zuko... I wasn’t trying to have sex with you, last night,” Sokka said softly. “I was just...” he blushed fiercely, and forced the words out. He needed to make this clear. There could be no room for miscommunication in this. “I was just gonna touch you. T-touch y-your... your penis.”

Sokka almost combusted with awkwardness.

Zuko just kept frowning at the ground.

“A-and now... now I know that there are gonna be... that there might be things you don’t want. And I want to respect that. I never, ever want you to feel uncomfortable with me. I _never_ want you to let me do something you don’t want. Does that... does that make sense?”

Zuko nodded a little.

“Okay. Okay good,” Sokka said emphatically, relieved. “And, Zuko?”

Zuko raised his head to look at Sokka’s chin.

“Zuko, I’m not... I’m not going to leave. Not about... about bedroom stuff. I will _not_ walk away because you said no. I swear. Do... do you understand that?”

Sokka felt his heart pounding in his chest, desperate for Zuko to understand.

If... if he didn’t... if he _couldn’t_... then maybe Sokka couldn’t do any of this at all.

“I understand, Sokka,” Zuko said softly. “So I just... I just say no, if I don’t want something? And... and then it stops?”

“Yeah. Yeah, exactly!” Sokka slumped forward in relief. “And we should like, discuss stuff. Before we do anything. I... I’m not ready to have sex right now. I don’t... I’m not ready for that. And I don’t think you are either, right?”

Zuko shook his head firmly.

“So we don’t do that. Simple.”

They negotiated boundaries and made plans until Sokka’s stomach started grumbling with desperation for lunch, and they took left overs from their take out home to Iroh.

Iroh put Sokka’s flowers in a vase for Zuko’s room, and Sokka had never felt so whole his entire life.

* * *

Somehow, telling Sokka about what Sokka hoped was the last, worst thing, seemed to have relaxed Zuko considerably.

He smiled more easily.

He squeezed back when Sokka held his hand, and shot him dopey grins.

The rest of junior year passed in easy harmony, the gang studying for finals at Sokka’s kitchen table, provided with a steady stream of Gran-Gran’s jerky and boxes of pastries from the Jasmine Dragon.

Zuko and his uncle had to move house so they had more space for Azula, and Sokka threw himself into researching sensory corners so he could build something perfect for Zuko in his new bedroom.

They spent half their time at Zuko’s house hiding out in their new corner, the sheet pulled across to give them privacy, yellow Christmas lights rolling slowly though relaxed patterns.

It was blissful.

Until Azula moved in.

And suddenly, Zuko was a mess again, twitching more than ever, hardly looking up from the ground, let alone making the sporadic and precious eye contact he’d been giving Sokka.

Sokka came to his room one day to find his favorite script on the floor, a painting covered in spilled paint, and Zuko curled up in his corner with his eyes closed, rocking slightly on the pillows and holding the duck toy Sokka had got him.

It had taken Sokka half an hour to persuade him into a hug and a snack.

But he hadn’t hurt himself. He hadn’t smashed his head into the wall, or slapped the side of his head with his hand. He’d just rocked, and Sokka couldn’t help but feel a little surge of pride that the corner he’d built had helped, even if it was only a little.

And then he’d talked to Azula. Their first real conversation, after she’d pushed Zuko into an actual panic attack by threatening to report back to their father.

And she’d just been... a kid.

In the semi darkness of her bedroom, sitting next to her on the floor, Sokka had seen it.

She was a little younger than Katara. Not even old enough to drive.

And Sokka remembered what Zuko had said, when he’d first told him about the scar. About the night he’d left his father forever. About the night Azula had tased him into a heart attack he still wasn’t quite recovered from.

Zuko _didn’t hate her_.

Her childhood was shitty too.

So Sokka sat, and he listened, and he didn’t hate.

In fact... he pitied her. In a way he’d never pitied Zuko.

The difference, he thought, was that Azula had submitted. Azula had been so... afraid, and desperate for their father’s love, that she’d changed herself. Done horrible things, to please a man who wouldn’t love her.

Zuko had fought in ways she hadn’t been able to. In ways he didn’t even know were fighting.

And Sokka knew what that had done to her.

So he promised himself, on Azula’s bedroom floor, that he would try for her, too. Like he’d tried for Zuko.

* * *

“I have a proposition,” Sokka announced on the way to the Jasmine Dragon. Zuko would already be there, starting his shift, so it was just the four of them.

Toph groaned.

“Great,” she snarked, “we all love your propositions.”

“Shaddup,” Sokka bumped her arm. “So... you know how we adopted Zuko?”

“Yeah,” Katara drew out the word skeptically.

“And that ended up being really great and cool because it was such a good plan?”

“Because you got yourself a boyfriend, you mean?” Katara smirked.

“Well, that too. But mostly, we all got a new friend because we put in some effort? Even though it was kinda hard, at first?”

“Where are you going with this, Snoozles?” Toph whacked him in the shin with her stick.

“Ow!” He hopped a few paces, scowling at her, before draping his arms over Katara and Aang’s shoulders. “Well... I was thinking... we could maybe make a new friend again?”

“Cool!” Aang grinned, just as Katara groaned.

“Who is it this time?” She ducked out of her brother’s grasp.

Sokka hesitated, suddenly unsure of his plan.

“Well... maybe... kind of... Azula?”

There was silence for several long seconds.

“You’re joking,” Katara rounded on him. “She’s horrible!”

“She’s dome some really shitty things,” Sokka agreed, “but she’s kinda getting better now? She was doing inpatient treatment for months, and she’s starting to warm up to Zuko and Iroh—”

“Doesn’t Zuko have to spend enough time with her without her being around us too?” Katara raised an eyebrow. She knew more than the others about what Azula had done to Zuko, and, despite the fact that she’d been a little skeptical of him at first, she was now fiercely protective.

“Well... I was also thinking we could semi-adopt her friends too. So that we’re just widening her circle, rather than bringing her into our inner ranks.”

“You want to be friends with Mai and Ty Lee too?” Toph raised her own eyebrows, unknowingly matching Katara’s expression.

“Yeah...” Sokka ran a hand through his hair. “Not like, all the time. But maybe for lunch at school, stuff like that? It just feels mean to exclude Azula completely. It’s not her fault she had a psychotic break, just like it’s not Zuko’s fault he’s autistic, or Toph’s fault she’s blind.”

“Yeah, but Toph being blind never made her hurt other people!”

“That’s what you think,” Toph smirked.

* * *

So they adopted Azula.

It was harder than adopting Zuko had been. He’d just been awkward, and angsty, and confused by their attention. Azula was different.

She was paranoid. Skeptical that they were doing anything other than trying to manipulate her.

But Sokka had sat on her bedroom floor and seen her cry. He’d heard her whispered confession that she hated her father. He’d seen her land an awkward kiss on Iroh’s forehead.

He’d seen her be what she was. A frightened, misled kid, just like Zuko.

She resisted, at first.

She told him to fuck off when he asked if she wanted to eat with them.

She sneered at Katara when she offered to sit next to her in class.

She shoved Aang away when he grinned and went straight for the hug.

She laughed when Toph claimed she could tell when people were lying, told them she was a four hundred foot tall purple platypus with pink horns and silver wings, and laughed again when Toph’s mouth dropped open.

The only person she didn’t actively rebuff was Zuko.

Which didn’t change much. He made no particular effort to speak to her anyway.

But slowly, over the course of a couple of weeks, they pulled her in.

It was Mai and Ty Lee that did it, really.

Sokka told them his plan, and Ty Lee squealed, immediately moving her lunch tray to sit with them. Mai sighed and followed.

They both greeted Zuko like they hadn’t spent three years not speaking to each other, and they sat at the other end of the table to the gang.

Not bothering them, but also definitely with them.

Eventually, Azula just kind of... went with it.

And then they sat together every day, and it was almost like she’d always been there.

* * *

It became perfectly normal, having Azula around.

She was funny, in a slightly abrasive way. Smart.

She even relaxed around Zuko, and Sokka caught her complimenting him a couple of times, even though it sounded awkward and stilted.

She was trying.

So having her around became normal. Except when it was weird.

Weird tended to happen whenever their conversation shifted to childhood story time, which was a fairly regular thing with Sokka and Katara, who had years of amusing and embarrassing material to tease each other with.

“So that’s how Sokka ended up with two fish hooks stuck in his thumb, a leg covered in ice water, and no fish!” Katara finished with a grin. Sokka stuck out his tongue good-naturedly, and everyone laughed.

Mai and Ty Lee weren’t there that day. Azula had shrugged and told them the pair were making out in the band room, and no one could quite tell if she was telling the truth.

“Has Zuko told you about the time he fell out of the apple tree?” Azula raised an eyebrow.

“Nope! Tell us!” Aang grinned enthusiastically, eager to hear fun stories about his friend. They didn’t hear very many from before he and Sokka had started dating.

Zuko tensed a little, his eyes flicking between Azula and the others.

Azula grinned and cracked her fingers in front of her, stretching out her arms in preparation to impress with her storytelling.

“So we’d been practicing our forms in the garden all afternoon, and we were really hungry. The next door neighbors had this massive apple tree, so I told Zuko to climb up a tree on our side of the fence and lean over to grab some. And then Dum-dum here manages to fall right off the branch!”

“Azula...” Zuko tried to interrupt, but Azula kept going as though she hadn’t heard.

“So he hits the ground without even grabbing a single apple, and breaks his wrist. Starts yelling about it, and Dad comes out to see what all the fuss was about.”

“ _Azula_ —” Zuko tried again, a note of tense warning in his voice. Sokka’s chest tightened as a heavy feeling of unease settled there.

He was just about to tell her not to finish the story when she kept going, her casual voice sliding into amusement. As though she was telling them any normal childhood memory.

“Dad really hated it when Zuko cried, so he storms over and starts yelling, and Zuko always cried harder when he got yelled at. Anyway, it came out that we’d been trying to steal the apples, so Dad made Zuko eat one of the rotting ones from under the tree, and then he had to stand with his arms stretched over his head for about an hour before we went to the hospital. You got a cute little red cast, right?”

Azula’s smile fell slightly at the horrorstruck looks from the group, and turned in her seat to look at her brother.

“What?” She asked, eyes scrunched up in confusion. “It’s a funny story!”

“That’s... that’s not...” Aang looked horrified, his face white as he stared at Zuko’s hunched shoulders.

Zuko just fixed his gaze on the table, his hands clenched into pulsing fists in front of him.

Sokka came out of his frozen anxiety and rounded on Azula.

“Azula, you can’t just _say_ stuff like that!” Sokka snapped, wrapping his hand around Zuko’s.

“Why not? You _asked_ me to tell the story! And you all know about our father already.”

“Yeah, in _general_. Not everyone knows lots of specific, personal details. I don’t think Zuko wants you to just tell us random things.”

“Why does it even matter? Didn’t you people start hanging out with him like two weeks after he got out of hospital? You must have noticed? Dad beat the shit out of him every other day and starved him half to death for months!”

Zuko put his head down on the table and buried his face into his arms.

The others stared at the siblings.

“You... you didn’t tell me it was that short a time ago...” Sokka whispered, squeezing his hand.

“You _knew_?” Aang croaked. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It wasn’t any of our business at the time, and I didn’t find out anything at all until we started dating,” Sokka snapped.

“What the _fuck_ , Sokka!” Katara yelled, making people at the nearby tables pause to look at her. “Was that why he never ate?”

“How did you people not notice?” Azula scowled, “he had a cracked skull and six broken ribs, and he had a _heart attack_! You’re telling me you all just let him wander around without anyone at school knowing?”

“Spirits,” Aang moaned, “how did he have a _heart attack_?”

“I had a psychotic break and tased him until his heart stopped,” Azula shrugged, brushing off Aang’s gasp of horror in favor of turning back to Sokka, anger painted clear across her face. “I _know_ you knew that. Did you seriously never tell them? What if he’d collapsed and you weren’t there?”

“Oh, that’s rich, pretending to give a shit about his safety _now_!” Sokka snapped back.

“Guys...” Toph said quietly, her feet planted firmly on the floor.

“It’s not like I expected anything better from you people,” Azula plowed forward, her voice rising with every word, “this fucking school barely even asked questions when a fucking eighth grader showed up with half his face burned off, or all those times Dad made him go to class even though he’d spent half the night kicking him against the wall! Where were all of you, huh? When he was fucking _twelve_ and Dad wasn’t feeding him? Or just a few months ago, when he was falling asleep in every class and he could barely _walk_ he was so fucked up?”

“It’s not like _you_ did any better!” Sokka yelled back, “you knew what was going on, the whole time, and you let it happen!”

“Guys—” Toph tried again, a little louder, but Sokka and Azula were totally absorbed in each other.

“The fuck else could I have done?” Azula roared, “what do you think would have happened if I’d told someone and they hadn’t taken us away? You think Zuko’d have the other half of his face? You think he’d still be walking around?”

“At least _we_ were just ignorant!” Sokka shouted back, “you saw everything! You were _complicit_!”

“ _Guys_!”

“Yeah, I saw everything!” Azula slammed her hand down on the table, “you honestly think I could have _stopped_ it? When could I have done that, Sokka? When he was whipping him on the fucking ground? When he had him bent over the table with his fingers—”

“ _No_!” Zuko stood up so violently that the bench toppled from under him, Aang and Toph, sending the other two sprawling to the ground as he launched up from his seat.

There was a wild look of absolute panic in his red rimmed eyes, his entire body quivering with tension, his hands twisting and pulsing in front of him.

The cafeteria was silent.

Everyone was staring at Zuko.

Zuko’s chest was heaving as he tried to breathe, the unscarred side of his face deathly pale, his stance lilting slightly to the side. The back of his hair stood up in angry spikes where he’d been holding it in a death grip that Sokka hadn’t even noticed.

Sokka’s anger disappeared instantly, completely replaced by worry and regret.

“Zu?” He whispered.

“No!” Zuko shook his head violently. With shaking hands, he grabbed his backpack from the floor and turned away, sprinting out of the cafeteria to a chorus of hushed whispers.

“Fuck,” Sokka and Azula cursed at the same time.

* * *

They couldn’t find him anywhere.

They’d split up to search the school, leaving Toph at the table in case he came back.

But he was gone.

Sokka had told Azula to text Iroh to let him know they’d lost his nephew half way down the rabbit hole of a panic attack, and then they were corralled by the bell into their afternoon classes.

Sokka’s pen tapped on his desk in worried, frustrated rhythms for the entire afternoon.

How could he have been so _stupid_?

Never yelling around Zuko was one of his top self imposed Zuko Rules. And he hadn’t just yelled.

He’d yelled at his _sister._ Yelled at his sister about his _father_.

He’d let Azula shout details into a quiet cafeteria.

Details Sokka only knew because Zuko _trusted_ him.

Tui and La, he’d fucked up.

Spirits... half the school had heard him and Azula shouting at each other.

And suddenly, things that Sokka _knew_ only he, Iroh and Azula had known... were just... common knowledge.

It was unbelievably, irrecoverably _bad_.

* * *

People whispered in the corridors.

About the twitchy gay kid with the hideous scar, who’d been whipped and kicked and starved by his father.

Sokka couldn’t stand it.

It was all his fault.

They were using words he and Azula gave them.

Maybe him especially. They weren’t exactly open about the fact they were dating, but... Sokka could definitely remember a few times they’d held hands at school. A few times Zuko had leaned against him and he’d wrapped his arm firmly around his shoulders.

He was glad, as he walked out of school with Katara, skipping their after school activities to drive around looking for Zuko, that his boyfriend had missed the afternoon of classes.

* * *

They drove in silence, and the air between them was absolutely stifling.

They went to the dojo, and the theater, and the library, and the park where Zuko used to feed the ducks with his mother.

He was nowhere.

Anxiety rose in Sokka’s blood until he felt it buzzing under his skin with every breath.

What if they couldn’t find him? What if it got dark out, and they still didn’t know where he was? What if something happened? What if he wandered into Ozai’s neighborhood, where he wasn’t supposed to be, and his father found him?

Sokka gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing anchoring him to the world.

He felt sick.

They went to his and Zuko’s park next. Where they’d had their first date, so many months before.

They walked around, calling for him, but Sokka knew that was probably pointless. Knew that Zuko was unlikely to be in a fit state to verbally respond to them.

As they approached the duck pond, Sokka saw a young man with dark hair standing by the water, and his heart leaped.

“Zuko?” He yelled at the boy, barley restraining himself from sprinting over.

The boy turned around, and Sokka’s steps faltered.

It wasn’t Zuko.

It was _Jet_.

Sokka did not want to talk to Jet.

“So, is it true?” Jet asked, casually crossing his arms as Sokka and Katara closed the gap between them.

“Is _what_ true?” Sokka spat, practically seeing red.

Jet had hit Zuko.

Jet had tried to have sex with him, and had hit him when he said no.

Jet had left him because he wouldn’t put out.

Jet had cheated on him, with half a dozen people, _including Sokka and Katara_.

And Jet had the audacity to stand there and ask if Zuko’d been abused.

“What you and his sister were yelling about today. That Zuko’s dad gave him that scar. That Zuko’s dad beat him up.”

“It’s none of your fucking _business_ , Jet,” Sokka growled, his fists clenching at his sides.

“If it wasn’t true, you’d deny it,” Jet moved his toothpick to the other side of his mouth.

And Sokka _pounced_.

He let out a roar of frustration and rage, and tackled into Jet, knocking them both onto the ground.

Jet made a startled flailing sound and landed a hard punch to Sokka’s eye, and then Sokka was on him, straddling his stomach as he let go of all the helpless anger in his chest.

Every punch he landed on Jet’s struggling, fighting, spitting body was an absolution.

He knew was punching Jet.

But it felt like punching Ozai.

Like punching Zhao.

Like punching every school official and neighbor and doctor and fucking mailman who _saw_ and didn’t _care_ and did _nothing_.

Punching because it wasn’t _fair_.

Punching because it was _wrong_.

Punching because no one deserves to live with that much _pain_ and _fear_ and fucking _loneliness_. Especially not a _child_.

“Sokka! Sokka stop! Spirits, Sokka you’re going to _hurt_ him!”

He vaguely registered Katara’s voice as his fist smashed through Jet’s nose, releasing a spurt of blood and an agonized grunt.

He felt droplets of blood hit his face. Spray over his eyelids and his teeth and his nose.

And he stopped.

Fuck.

Jet was panting on the ground, blood pouring from his nose as the skin around his eye darkened visibly, half his face swelling steadily.

Spirits.

He’d actually hurt him.

That wasn’t even a _fight_.

Fuck.

Sokka scrambled backwards and collapsed onto his butt on the ground.

Jet rolled over with a groan and held himself on all fours, letting the blood drip from his nose into the grass.

Sokka stared down at his hand, his knuckles split and his fingers swelling.

Shit.

He was shaking.

“What the _fuck_ , Sokka,” Jet hissed at the ground. “What the absolute fuck?”

“I... I... I didn’t...” Sokka couldn’t find the words.

Jet spat out a mouthful of blood and pulled himself unsteadily to his feet.

“Fuck,” he said again, swaying slightly, “fuck, I was only _asking_!”

“You... you...” Sokka looked up at him from the ground, staring at the blood dribbling down his neck, staining the collar of his t-shirt.

Jet raised a hand to his face and cupped his nose, feeling it for damage.

“How the fuck am I gonna explain this to my foster parents, huh?” Jet spat another mouthful of bloody spit to the side, and it splashed near Sokka’s foot. Sokka looked up, and saw the edge of fear in Jet’s eyes, and felt his stomach lurch.

Fuck.

He knew that look.

“J-Jet, I... I’m s-sorry,” Sokka stammered.

Katara finally came all the way up to them, ignoring Sokka in favor of grabbing Jet’s arm and leading him to a bench.

She made him sit, and gently palpated his nose. He scowled up at her, but didn’t protest.

“It’s not broken, I don’t think,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “It’ll bruise.”

“Yeah no fucking kidding,” Jet said darkly, turning his face away from both of them.

“I-I can come explain to them,” Sokka blurted out, guilt churning in his stomach, panic rising in his veins. He couldn’t let Jet go home, not if someone was going to...

“Spirits, Sokka, they’re not gonna _beat_ me for it,” Jet dismissed, somehow guessing exactly where Sokka’s mind had gone. If Sokka punching him hadn’t confirmed Zuko’s backstory in Jet’s mind, then his panic at the thought of parents certainly had. “The _world_ you people live in, _fuck_.”

Sokka felt some of the tension drain from his muscles in relief, and he sagged to the side, barely stopping himself from just curling up into a ball in the grass and never moving again.

He had the sudden urge to cry.

Because this _was_ the world he lived in, now.

A world where people did beat their children.

A world where his beautiful, sensitive, _kind_ boyfriend had spent his entire childhood petrified of his father.

A world where he could punch Jet in the face and expose him to a horror show of parental punishment completely unwittingly.

Sokka retched a little, and spat a mouthful of bile off to the side. It landed right next to Jet’s mouthful of blood, and the fucking dramatic irony of it all made him want to throw up for real.

There was a long moment of quiet while Jet pinched the top of his nose and Sokka tried to get his breath back. But then Jet looked up, his face screwed into a frown.

“Listen...” he said, somehow much more gently. “I didn’t mean to... well, I guessed Zuko was... fucked up. But I didn’t know any of that stuff you and Azula were saying, I swear I didn’t. And I... I’m gonna make sure no one talks about it, okay? He... he doesn’t deserve that.”

Sokka’s vision went fuzzy for a second before he realized that he’d let out a damp sob from between his clenched teeth.

“Please,” he muttered, “ _please_ , do that. He... he _can’t_ have everyone talking about it. He can’t have people asking...”

“I know,” Jet said, his voice almost soft. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen. I promise.”

Jet stood up and closed the gap between them. He reached down, and pulled Sokka up by the arm.

“Ice pack, soon as you get home,” he instructed. “Ten minutes on, ten minutes off, for a couple of hours, and then again a few times a day for the next few days.” Sokka stared at him, a little wobbly on his feet, and Jet sighed. “What, you think this is my first fight?”

Sokka shook his head.

“Then listen to my advice. And... and tell him I’m... tell him I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have... yeah. Any of it. I... I _did_ care about him, I honestly did. I just... well.” He shrugged a little, looking away.

Sokka nodded, and let go of Jet’s arm.

“Take your own advice, yeah?” Sokka muttered. “That’s... that’s gonna hurt in the morning.”

“It hurts _now_ ,” Jet winced as he tried to smirk.

Sokka winced back in sympathy.

“Sorry.”

“Eh,” Jet shrugged.

He turned, and walked away across the park before Sokka could say another word.

* * *

Azula texted him as Katara drove them to the third park in town with a pond.

Sokka scrambled for his phone and read the text with trembling fingers.

_Zuko’s with Iroh. I’m going to stay with Mai. We’ve been instructed not to see him tonight._

Sokka almost threw up properly in relief.

“They’ve found him,” he whispered to Katara.

“Oh, thank the spirits,” Katara closed her eyes for a second before turning left, heading back to their house rather than to the next park.

“Azula says we’re not allowed to go over. And she’s spending the night at Mai’s. It... it must be pretty bad.”

“Yeah, it probably is,” Katara shook her head in regret and condemnation. “I can’t believe we did that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sokka said numbly. “It was me and Azula. We shouldn’t... we shouldn’t have even been talking about it in public, let alone yelling at each other.”

“No. You really shouldn’t have.” Katara said coldly.

They didn’t talk for the rest of the drive.

* * *

Zuko wasn’t at school the next day.

The gang ate lunch in silence, Azula, Mai and Ty Lee at the other end of the table, equally quiet.

Sokka watched Jet moving smoothly between tables, talking effortlessly to popular kids in each social group.

Sokka saw him chuckle when people pointed out his swollen nose and black eye.

Saw him bend forward slightly when his face went serious, inviting them all to lean in towards him, like little children excited to hear a secret.

Saw him smile at them when they nodded soberly.

Saw him clap a hand on each back in warm agreement as he moved on to his next target.

He was working the room with an ease Sokka almost envied.

When he walked through the corridor at the end of the day, he realized with a rush of relief that he hadn’t heard any whispers about Zuko that afternoon.

Jet had done his job.

* * *

Sokka knocked on the door to Iroh’s house for five minutes.

No one let him in.

* * *

No one talked about Zuko at school the next day. At least, nowhere Sokka could hear.

The others hadn’t heard anything either.

A few people shot curious looks at Sokka in the corridors, but he scowled convincingly at them and they looked embarrassed enough not to do it to Zuko.

But Zuko wasn’t there.

Sokka could feel the antsy anxiety under his skin, in his stomach, making his heart beat just a little too fast.

And, overwhelmingly, overriding every other feeling or thought, was a heavy blanket of guilt.

The guilt made him close his eyes through the whole of World History, because he could see Zuko’s empty seat from his own at the back.

The guilt made him trail his finger across the front of Zuko’s locker when he walked past it.

The guilt made his stomach flip when he sat down to eat lunch, and he barely got through half of his meal before he had to put it away.

The guilt festered.

And it would keep festering until he could properly apologize to Zuko. Until he could properly make it right.

* * *

Azula answered Iroh’s door when he knocked, and he felt an irrational blaze of hurt that she’d been invited back before him.

He shoved it aside.

This was her _home_.

Iroh wasn’t going to kick her out of it just because she fucked up.

Instead of letting him inside, Azula stepped out of the door and pulled him away before leaning against a tree in the yard, her arms crossed over her chest.

“It’s bad,” she said bluntly. “With Zuko.”

Sokka’s heart clenched.

“What does that mean?” He asked, his voice tight and high even to his own ears.

“He... he hasn’t said much. Well... he hasn’t really said _anything_.”

Sokka dug his nails into his palm. He knew Zuko could sometimes go a little nonverbal for a minute, at the heat of an intense emotion. But it’d been almost two days.

“Iroh had to watch some sign language videos and teach him some basic words. He’s not talking at all. And he’ll barely let Iroh stand up. I’ve... I’ve never seen him like that. He’s not usually one for being silent and clingy.” Azula delivered her news in a blank voice, but Sokka could see the hint of guilty nervousness in her eyes.

“Oh,” Sokka said dumbly.

“He’s in the living room. We’re being quiet in the house, and Uncle Iroh made me promise to tell you that we’re not allowed to bring in any negative energy.” She scoffed a little. “Iroh and I have been praying before we go inside, but I don’t know what your people do to banish dark spirts from a sickroom.”

Sokka gaped a little.

“We... we just take off our shoes,” he said, almost apologetically. It seemed somehow much _less_ than prayer. He felt a tiny twinge of shame for his own culture, so much less showy and outward facing than theirs. He shoved it away.

“Well, do that then.”

Azula turned away and went back towards the house. Sokka followed, nerves flooding his stomach.

When she reached the door, she took a pinch of ash from a little tray on the windowsill and smeared it over the doorframe, joining dozens of other black marks on the wood. She left her thumb over the ash and said a few words in a language Sokka didn’t speak, and then opened the door.

Sokka hurriedly took off his shoes and left them outside. He didn’t have a prayer for banishing spirits, but he tapped his fingers to the drumbeat of a chant for health and happiness he’d heard in the village once, when they’d gone back after his mother had died.

The living room was overly warm, and Sokka gravitated immediately to the couch.

He bit down hard on his lip as he took in the scene.

Iroh sat on one end of the couch, looking a little lost, with Zuko’s head in his lap.

He was carding his fingers gently though Zuko’s messy hair.

Zuko himself was cocooned in his duvet, curled in a small ball next to his uncle with his eyes half open, staring blankly at the ceiling.

There was a small bruise at his hairline on the unscarred side of his face. Sokka felt his stomach drop as he realized it was probably from smacking his head against a wall.

Iroh gave Sokka a slightly sharp, warning look, breaking through his own air of helplessness.

Slowly, Sokka sank to his knees in front of the couch.

“Hey, Zuko,” he said softly. Zuko blinked, and his gaze lowered slightly. Not quite pointing at Sokka, but no longer staring at the ceiling.

“So... I missed you,” he whispered, “like, a lot. It’s been super quiet without you, buddy.”

Iroh’s mouth twitched, and Sokka could tell that, in better circumstances, he would have made a joke.

“Look, Zu, I... I’m so sorry. We should never have talked about your personal shit in public like that. And we really, really, really, shouldn’t have been yelling about it.”

Sokka ached to close the gap between them. To rest his hand on Zuko’s shoulder.

“You’ll never guess what happened, though,” he tried to say it lightly, but he felt tears clogging up his throat and it came out scratchy, “I ran into Jet.”

Zuko twitched a little, and his head moved just slightly to bring Sokka into his field of vision.

“I might have punched him a few times,” Sokka rubbed the back of his neck, “but we’re... kinda cool now, I guess? He told me to pass on his apologies to you, for everything, and... well, he’s sorta saved my ass. It was pretty brilliant of him, Zu. He’s been going around everyone who was in the cafeteria the other day, and bribing them, or giving them new gossip, or maybe threatening them a little, so they won’t talk about your stuff anymore. And it worked, babe. No one is talking about it.”

Very slowly, Zuko’s right hand wormed its way out of his duvet cocoon. He placed his fingers on his chin and drew them away. It was one of the only signs Sokka knew. Thank you.

“You’re welcome. I... I know this must be really overwhelming,” his voice cracked, “and I’m so sorry. I always want to protect you from the bad stuff, but... I got carried away.”

Zuko nodded a little, and let his head fall back down fully onto Iroh’s lap. Iroh kept up his steady petting of Zuko’s hair, and Sokka leaned back on his heels.

“A-are you gonna be okay?” Sokka’s voice broke entirely, and he fisted his hands in his lap to keep from pulling Zuko into his arms.

There was a long moment where nothing happened at all.

Then Zuko pulled his hand out of the duvet again, and made a fist, his thumb pointing out. He touched his jaw and let his hand drift forward until he was giving what looked like a thumbs up in front of his face.

His hand dropped again, and he very deliberately closed his eyes, finishing his role in the conversation.

Sokka looked up at Iroh quizzically. He had no idea what the sign meant.

“He says _tomorrow_ ,” Iroh whispered. “I assume that means he thinks he’ll feel better by then.”

Zuko nodded once against Iroh’s thigh, and Iroh smiled down at him, his eyes a little damp.

Sokka managed his own damp smile, and left the house.

All he could do was hope to see Zuko tomorrow.

* * *

Sokka nearly fell over in relief when Zuko walked through the main school doors the next day.

He barely restrained himself from sprinting over and throwing himself into the other boy’s arms.

Instead, he covered the ground between them in long, quick strides, and stopped right in front of him.

“Hey,” he said quietly, trying to let all the love and remorse he felt shine in his eyes.

“Hey,” Zuko rasped back. His voice was hoarse, deeper and quieter than it normally was, but Sokka practically melted into the familiar cadence.

“C-can I hug you, babe?” Sokka whispered. Zuko nodded, and Sokka folded him into his arms, breathing in the fresh scent of toothpaste and jasmine tea. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered into Zuko’s good ear. “I was so worried. I’m so, so, sorry, Zu.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

Sokka buried his face in Zuko’s neck, and swore to himself he wouldn’t break any more Zuko Rules.

* * *

Sokka had second period free on Fridays, and he was the only one in their group.

He loved having them all around all the time, but it was lovely, for an hour once a week, not to have to see any of them.

He usually spent the period doodling in the library, or doing mini coding projects, or going for a quick run around the field.

Katara always scolded him for it, saying that the free periods were for homework, not for slacking off, but Sokka rolled his eyes and pointed out that _homework_ was for _home_.

He hadn’t factored Azula’s schedule into his, though.

So it was with a sigh of mourning that he noticed her striding up to him in the library.

“I need to talk to you,” she said firmly. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Sokka sighed again. It wouldn’t hurt her to actually _ask_ him. Recognizing that trying to make her ask was a pointless battle, he simply packed up his stuff and followed her out into the cool morning sunlight.

“We fucked up,” she said plainly when they were far enough away from the school buildings to be out of earshot. “With Zuko.”

“Yeah,” Sokka rubbed the back of his neck. “We really did. And I’m sorry for saying that stuff to you, too.”

“See, this is my _point_ ,” Azula scowled, “you’re so fucking _nice_.”

“Um... sorry? Is that a bad thing now?”

“I just don’t get it!” Azula rolled her eyes. “Okay, so I get that we shouldn’t have been yelling about his fucked up life in the middle of the cafeteria. I _get_ that. But... you’re always doing nice shit for him, and I don’t understand why.”

Sokka felt a little blindsided.

“Uh, he’s my boyfriend? Of course I do nice stuff.”

“So you do it to get in his pants?” Azula frowned.

“What? No!” Sokka spluttered, “ _what_?”

“Then _why_? Why put so much effort in, when you’re not getting anything in return?”

“I—I get a lot in return!” Sokka had no idea where this was going.

“No you don’t,” Azula argued, “you’re attractive, you could be dating anyone, why the fuck would you date _him_?”

Sokka recoiled slightly, shaking his head.

“Because he’s awesome?” He frowned.

“But he’s... he’s all... broken,” Azula pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest.

“No, he’s not,” Sokka stepped towards her, closing the gap between them. “He’s just different. And he’s been hurt. I love him.”

Azula frowned, her entire face scrunching up in angry confusion.

“But you have to... _accommodate_ him,” she said accommodate like it was a dirty word, like Sokka shouldn’t have even thought about trying.

“Well, yeah, but I do that for everyone. Like, Katara wants to be in charge all the time, or she feels out of control, so I let her do that. And Aang is the most distractible kid you’ve ever met, so we do homework together and check in every fifteen minutes to make sure we’re on task. And Toph needs someone to drive her around, so I’ve been doing that since the day I got my license. It’s not that different.”

“So...” she said, a little more quietly, almost curiously, “what do you actually do? For Zuko?”

“Um... I don’t know. I tell him when something I know he doesn’t like is about to happen, so he can prepare himself for it. Like if there’s going to be loud noises. And I learned how much pressure he likes for hugs. And I can usually tell a lot about what’s happening in his head by watching how his hands move. I guess I have different expectations or whatever for when he’s going to look at me, or what he’s going to _get_ straight away. Or... we always hang out in quieter places as a group now, because it’s hard for him to follow different conversations when we’re somewhere loud, because of his hearing.”

“He can’t hear?” Azula frowned even more deeply. “I... I knew his eye was fucked up...”

“Yeah,” Sokka sighed. “I don’t think it’s all that bad. He gets a lot of tinnitus, and I think everything’s a bit muffled. Like... he can’t hear people coming up to him, but he can hear when you talk on that side.”

“I still don’t get it,” Azula snarled half heartedly. “How come you treat him so different? He should just be strong enough to be normal.”

“It’s not about strength. He’s one of the strongest people I know, actually. But he _is_ different. He _can’t_ learn to be like us. He is the way he is, and I love him for it. So what if there are things I have to do differently than if I had a neurotypical boyfriend? It’s... I like taking care of people. And there are so many things, little things, that I can do that make his life better. It’s so easy to adjust all this tiny stuff, and it makes so much difference. I... it’s just really nice. To be someone who can give him that. That’s the kind of person I want to be.”

“So you _are_ just doing all of this stuff because it makes you feel good?” Azula’s lip twitched in anger. “It’s not even for him?”

“No, of course it’s for him. He’s not some kind of charity case! I want to do nice things because I love him. If he wasn’t autistic, I’d probably be doing different nice things, but I’d still be doing them. Because that’s what being someone’s partner is.”

“I don’t get it,” Azula shook her head. “Why put in the effort?”

“He’s worth it,” Sokka shrugged.

Azula shrugged back, her frown deeper and more contemplative than before.

Interesting.

* * *

Hakoda came home, and it took Sokka a good three days before he stopped being mad about the whole _secretly being married to his best friend for an entire year_ thing.

But he got over it, and it was only after a week of slowly easing himself back into living with his Dad that he realized Zuko hadn’t come to the house since Hakoda got back.

Friday night was always spent at Sokka’s house, but Zuko had stuttered through a clearly rehearsed speech about wanting to go to Iroh’s instead.

And then he’d been on edge the entire evening, his hands fluttering much more than normal, his feet bouncing off the floor whenever he sat down, his muscles clenched and tight when they lay on his bed to watch videos.

Sokka didn’t understand what was wrong.

“Zu, are you okay?” He twined their hands together, pressing down slightly on Zuko’s fingers just how he knew the other boy liked it, putting pressure over the joints.

Zuko started slightly, his eyes darting to meet Sokka’s for a second and then flitting immediately away.

“I’m fine,” he said stiffly, pulling his hand away. Sokka felt the distance like he’d stood up and left.

“Did I do something?” He asked quietly, trying to quell the little ache in his chest at the thought of having hurt him without realizing.

“No!” Zuko’s eyes widened in surprise. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Is it something else, then? Iroh, or Azula?”

“I told you I was fine,” Zuko frowned.

“Yeah, but I can tell something’s up, babe. You look stressed.”

Zuko sighed.

“I... I just...”

“What is it?” Sokka took his hand again, and Zuko squeezed back.

“I don’t...”

“Is it something to do with why we’re here, and not at mine?”

Zuko shrank in on himself a little and Sokka reached his other arm around his shoulder, pulling him close.

“I... I was rude,” he whispered, his voice trembling just a little, “to your father.”

Sokka’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“What? No you weren’t!”

“I _was_! I... I... I thought...” Zuko choked on an uneven breath, and Sokka clutched him tighter.

“What, babe?”

“I... when he was telling you about Bato, I thought... I thought he was gonna...” he trailed off into nothing, and turned his face to hide in Sokka’s hoodie.

“You thought he was gonna be mad?” Sokka put the pieces together, a heavy weight of grief pressing on his chest.

He couldn’t help remembering what Zuko had said, that day in the park, when Sokka had asked what he would have done if he’d yelled at his own father.

 _I’d have taken my beating like a good little boy, and never spoken out of turn again_.

Zuko nodded.

“I thought he was... you were... you _yelled_ at him! And I thought...”

“You thought he’d hurt me?” Sokka whispered. Zuko nodded again. “Zuko... I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that. Dad would _never_. He’s never hit me, or Katara, not even once. He’s barely even yelled. And when he does, it’s always because we’ve done something dangerous, or if we’d gone too far annoying each other and got someone upset. I swear, he’d never, _ever_ do that.”

“I know,” Zuko whispered. “I know now. I... I’ve been... checking you.”

Sokka’s heart fell again.

“Checking me?”

“F-for bruises,” Zuko buried his face deeper into Sokka’s chest, “all week. And... and I was wrong. I misjudged him, and it was unfair, and it was _rude_.”

“Oh Zuko...” Sokka felt his eyes burning at the thought of Zuko carefully cataloging his strides, checking his arms for damage, watching his every move to make sure he was safe. “Thank you.”

Zuko pulled away sharply, and Sokka let him retreat.

“Thank you?” Zuko frowned, his burned eye closing to a tiny slit in his confusion.

“Yeah. Thank you for taking care of me, and protecting me. It wasn’t necessary, but I... I really appreciate it.”

“But... I thought your father was going to _hurt_ you! Even though he didn’t! You... you should be angry with me!”

“Spirits, Zu, why would I be _angry_? I get it! It’s...” Sokka deflated slightly, not sure what words to pick, “it’s okay. You... you’re... it’s a trauma response, babe, and it’s fine. I’m not angry, and Dad’s not angry. No one’s angry at _all_. And Dad didn’t think you were rude. He’s been asking to hang out with you properly.”

Zuko stared at him, his mouth open a little in disbelief.

“But... but I was _disrespectful_!”

“You weren’t,” Sokka insisted. “And even if you had been, nothing would have happened. You think Dad’s not used to rude teenagers? He taught at a boot camp for like three years! He might have raised an eyebrow and given you his _I’m disappointed in your conduct_ look. But nothing would _happen_! I swear.”

“I don’t... I don’t understand.” Zuko shook his head in frustrated confusion.

“It’s okay,” Sokka smiled slightly and pulled him back into a hug, letting his head rest on his chest. “Maybe you’ll just have to trust me on this one.”

* * *

Sokka had a plan.

Step one was venue. He decided within seconds of thinking about it that Iroh’s house was a much better location than his. Zuko would be on his home turf, and it would be Sokka’s family who would have to integrate into an unfamiliar environment.

Step two was food. He quizzed Iroh and Gran-Gran separately, and gave Iroh the menu, with recipes he’d gathered from a combination of their cookbooks.

Step three was actually asking a Iroh if it was okay. He’d earned himself a hug and a damp eyed agreement for that.

Step four was telling his dad and step dad about Zuko.

Explaining that he would be jumpy, and over polite, and quiet.

Explaining that it wasn’t their fault if he flinched away from them, but that they needed to telegraph their movements carefully.

Explaining that they should expect a certain amount of jerky hand movements and very likely no eye contact at all.

Explaining that Zuko would probably be expecting them to turn on him, Sokka or Katara at any moment, and not to be offended by it.

Hakoda had nodded grimly, and Bato had looked closer to tears than he’d looked since Sokka’s mother’s funeral.

He’d asked, and Sokka had told him. No details. But a general outline of why having two fathers in his living room might be a waking nightmare of potential triggers.

Bato had nodded. They were military. They knew enough people who jumped at loud noises not to question it too much.

Step five was getting Katara and Azula on board. Azula declared his plan one of the worst ideas she’d ever heard, and slammed her locker shut before storming off. She’d come to find him at the end of the school day and told him he’d be the first to suffer if anything went wrong. He took this as permission. Katara was easier. She agreed when he mentioned stewed sea prunes.

Step six was telling Zuko.

Step six was hardest.

“Zuko,” Sokka paused the video they were watching and shifted a little closer into their hug. He moved his hand from Zuko’s shoulder to his hair, and ran blunt nails across his scalp in soothing patterns, “I have an idea I want to run by you.”

Zuko hummed his interest and nudged his face into Sokka’s chest.

“I think we should have dinner with our families. Like, together. Get you, Iroh, Azula, Katara, Dad, Bato, Gran-Gran and I in the same room and just have a nice meal. Get to know each other a bit.”

Zuko stiffened, but didn’t pull away.

“I know that’s kind of a lot of people, and that you haven’t met Bato yet, and that you’re still on edge about my dad, but I think it would be really nice. Do you think we can do that?”

“I...” Zuko’s breath caught in his throat, and Sokka felt him tensing, muscles coiling to fight or curl up in protection. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. Can I tell you the plan?”

It took thirty minutes of gentle cajoling and several bribery kisses to get Zuko to agree.

Which meant that his plan was ready.

* * *

Sokka hadn’t quite appreciated how small Iroh’s house was until eight people were standing in his living room.

Sokka had gone ahead to help Iroh and Zuko set up, so he was the one to open the door when his family arrived.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Hakoda grinned, pulling him into a hug.

Katara marched right past him with a stack of pots filled with Gran-Gran’s cooking, and he heard her greeting Zuko and Iroh in the kitchen.

“Remember,” Sokka said quietly to Hakoda, Bato and Gran-Gran, “be nice. Don’t get too loud. If Zuko or Azula are being quiet, don’t try and force conversation out of them. Let Iroh carry them if he thinks he needs to.”

“We know, son,” Hakoda ruffled his hair.

“That boy’s been at my house three times a week for months,” Gran-Gran grumbled, “I think I can handle dinner.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Bato smiled reassuringly. Sokka could sense he was more nervous than he was letting on, though, and he was fiddling absentmindedly with the bandages around his healing shoulder.

“Okay,” Sokka breathed out a bracing sigh, “let’s do this.”

He led them into the house, and Iroh came out of the kitchen bearing a tray of cups and a teapot.

“Iroh!” Hakoda took the tray from him and set it down on the coffee table, “good to meet you! Pakku told me all about you managing to beat him in the tournament last week. Practically purple in the face, he was.”

Iroh laughed and ducked his head in acknowledgement.

“He put up a good fight,” Iroh conceded, “but he always underestimates my strategies.”

The adults laughed, and Sokka turned back into the kitchen to find the others.

“It’s gonna be fine,” he heard Katara say gently, “we took them out for a long walk this morning, so they’re all calm and hungry. Gran-Gran’s been telling them all about how you appreciate her bread more than Dad does. They like you already.”

“Okay,” Zuko closed his eyes and breathed, and Sokka felt a rush of pride, “okay. It’s fine. It’s fine, right?”

“Yeah,” Katara smiled, “it’s fine.”

“Promise,” Sokka came up next to them and kissed Zuko’s cheek, wrapping his arm around the other boy’s middle.

He felt some of the tension drain from Zuko’s muscles as he leaned back into the touch.

“Okay,” Zuko repeated. “Okay. I’m gonna go tell Azula everyone’s here.”

“I think she heard everyone come in,” Sokka kissed his cheek again, “she was coming down the stairs a second ago.

On cue, they heard Azula greeting the adults in the other room, her voice more formal than usual.

“Okay. Then I’ll just... finish the jook?”

“It looks done,” Sokka squeezed a little pressure into the hug.

“Oh,” Zuko turned to look at the stove, and frowned at the clearly perfect jook like it had personally offended him.

“Let’s go out and say hi, yeah?”

Zuko bit his lip, and his hands jerked in stressful clenches.

Sokka took his hand and guided him gently out into the living room. Gran-Gran, Hakoda, Iroh and Azula didn’t even look up when they came in, and Sokka felt a wave of pure gratitude to them all as he and Zuko sat down.

Bato though... Bato was staring at Zuko in pitying shock, and Sokka couldn’t work out why. He’d been so certain that he’d hammered out the rules.

“Hi!” Bato said, his voice a shade higher than usual. “You must be Zuko!”

Zuko cringed a little and nodded.

“Hi,” he said quietly, and Sokka felt him shift to stand and shake hands before he gave up on that idea and settled back next to Sokka.

“I guess we know what Hakoda and Sokka like in their men, huh?” Bato grinned awkwardly, motioning with his bandaged arm to Zuko’s face. Sokka blinked in confusion, and Hakoda frowned, clearly no more in the know than his son. “You know? Extra crispy!”

Bato laughed, a little too strained, into the sudden silence.

Zuko’s hand darted up to cover his scar before he wrestled down the urge and shoved his hands under his thighs.

“ _Bato_!” Hakoda snapped.

“ _What_ did you just say?” Azula growled.

“I-I... shit... I just...”

Sokka put it together with a rush of horror as Bato fiddled with the bandages around his burned shoulder. He hadn’t even warned Bato about Zuko’s scar.

He was ready to slap himself for the utter carelessness of that when he’d been so careful to brief them on everything else.

“Come on,” Sokka tried, “let’s go eat! We have such good food ready, you’re all going to love it!”

“No,” Azula stood up, “what the fuck are you trying to say?” She towered over Bato, her arms crossed over her chest, practically radiating heat.

“I didn’t mean... I just...”

Sokka had never heard Bato sounding so awkward or unsure of himself.

“It’s fine,” Zuko said quietly, barely loud enough for anyone further away than Sokka to hear.

“It’s not fine, Dumdum,” Azula snarled, “maybe _I_ should take an iron to _his_ face for _his_ disrespect.”

Zuko paled, and he winced back, tucking himself more firmly into Sokka’s side.

“Stand down, Azula,” Iroh instructed as Bato’s face went pale and his eyes flicked between Azula and Zuko’s scar.

Sokka saw him mouth a disbelieving _iron?_ , and an even more disbelieving _disrespect?_ before he stood up and pulled Zuko to his feet.

“We have spicy seaweed noodles to start us off,” Sokka said firmly, with a hard look at Bato and a pleading glance at his father.

Hakoda nodded, and pulled Bato to his feet.

“That sounds amazing, son,” he said lightly, turning to help Gran-Gran up.

“It really is!” Sokka marched them to the kitchen, “we mixed in some of these awesome spices Iroh has in his pantry, but other than that we followed Gran-Gran’s recipe exactly.”

“It’s delicious, if I do say so myself,” Iroh chuckled, stepping between his nephew and Sokka’s family.

Azula’s arms were still crossed, and she looked ready to explode at any moment, but Zuko stuck close to Sokka, bolstered on his other side by Iroh, and didn’t seem to be any worse for wear.

* * *

After the near-fiasco at the start of their evening, everything went according to Sokka’s plan.

Gran-Gran and Iroh got on like they’d been best friends their whole lives.

Hakoda engaged Azula and Katara in a long discussion on the ethics of military drones and civilian casualties.

Bato and Zuko even managed to commiserate on the awful stench of burn cream.

And Sokka just kept one hand on Zuko’s knee under the table whenever he wasn’t using it to shovel more delicious food into his mouth.

Zuko kept glancing nervously at Hakoda, but Hakoda kept his entire body relaxed and amiable, leaning back in his chair to throw careless grins at the other family with his finger tips cruising slow circles on Bato’s shoulder.

They hung around for a couple of hours after dinner, drinking tea and sharing funny stories, and Sokka felt a thrill of completeness in his stomach.

Bato had his arm around Hakoda in an exact mirror of Sokka’s arm around Zuko, and he’d never felt as warm or as comfortable as he did on Iroh’s slightly lumpy couch.

Eventually, Sokka’s family started gathering their pots and saying their goodbyes, and Sokka decided to just stay over and end the night with his boyfriend.

“I’m so proud of you, babe,” Sokka whispered into his good ear as they snuggled down under a mountain of blankets.

And if Zuko woke up shaking in the middle of the night, his hand clutched desperately to his scar, Sokka wasn’t going to say anything. And he was there to stroke his hair and squeeze around his shoulders until he was asleep again.

Overall, Sokka thought to himself as he drifted back into his own sleep, it had been a good plan.

* * *

Katara was a year and a half younger than Sokka, and she already had half her life planned. Her college choices, her major, her career path.

Sokka knew every detail of her five, ten and twenty year plans, and had none of his own.

Sure, he had _some_ ideas.

He liked building stuff. Inventing.

He was good with computers.

He liked physics, and math.

He liked poetry, but only the good stuff.

He just didn’t know how to make a career out of any of it.

He guessed that was what these mandatory meetings with the guidance counselors were for.

He hadn’t spoken to Mrs Jamison in almost a year, since she’d suggested he go make friends with Zuko.

So he knew she had the best possible ideas and he couldn’t wait for her to tell him exactly what to do with the entire rest of his life.

Not that he was putting a lot of pressure on the meeting or anything.

He bounded into the room with a massive grin, and almost crushed her in his enthusiasm to sit at the tiny desk that took up most of the office.

“Good morning, Sokka,” she laughed.

“Good morning!” He beamed at her, waiting for her magic words that would give him insight into the kind of life plan Katara had.

“So! We’re half way though your senior year, how do you feel about graduating?”

“Well...” Sokka’s grin slid off his face. “I guess I’m looking forward to not being in school? I don’t really know what happens now, though.”

“That’s perfectly normal,” she nodded. “And how is your life outside of school?”

“Good! My dad got married a few weeks ago, and he’s heading back overseas next week. He says he’ll come back for graduation though. Um... I’m dating someone,” he tailed off a little, annoyed that he was hesitating. He’d never hesitated in telling someone the name of a _girl_ he was dating.

“I know,” she rolled her eyes a little, “Zuko’s told me several times.”

Sokka blushed, unable to keep the adoring smile off his face. Zuko talked about him with the guidance counselor? That was adorable.

“Yeah,” he sighed happily, “we’re doing good.”

“I’m so glad for you both,” she smiled. “So. You have really excellent grades in everything other than history. Your physics, computing and woodshop teachers have all mentioned that you are particularly excelling in their classes. What kind of thing are you interested in studying further?”

Sokka blushed again. His teachers thought he was _excelling_?

“Oh, I guess I... I don’t know? I want to do something where I can build stuff? And where I can learn theory? I don’t really know what stuff, or what theory, but I like both?”

“Okay,” Mrs Jamison hummed, “have you considered engineering? That would involve a lot of theoretical math and physics as well as some design and construction, depending on what branch you chose to follow.”

Sokka rolled the idea around in his mind.

“That sounds interesting,” he said slowly.

“You’re also a fairly gifted programmer, correct?”

“Oh, I guess? I do some coding in my free time.”

“What about computer science? You’d do less work with your hands, but you could build software alongside learning some complex theory and math?”

“Yeah...” Sokka bit his lip.

“I... I actually had a bit of an idea for you,” she said, and Sokka couldn’t help but notice she sounded almost nervous.

“Yeah?” He perked up. Maybe this was the magic solution he’d hoped for.

“I noticed that several of your friends face specific challenges related to disability,” she tapped her pen on the desk. “And that you are particularly good at helping them overcome obstacles they have towards independence.”

Sokka’s eyes widened.

“I... well... I try to do that, yeah.”

“You do it very well. Several students who have come to see me in the last couple of years have said that you have been instrumental in their successful navigation of the world.”

Several? That meant more than just Toph and Zuko...

“They have?”

“Yes, Sokka. Your name comes up quite frequently in this office, actually.” Mrs Jamison smiled widely at him.

Sokka was stunned.

“Did you know that the university in the next city over offers a degree in accessibility design and engineering?”

Sokka’s eyes widened again, and his heart skipped an interested beat.

“What does that mean?”

“It can mean anything from building software that helps people with physical or intellectual disabilities to use technology, to designing physical spaces like schools, hospitals and public buildings that are intrinsically accessible to everyone.”

Sokka stared at her.

“That’s... that’s a _job_?”

“Yeah,” she laughed lightly. “That’s a job. My younger cousin designs playgrounds for children with special needs. They’re actually quite remarkable.”

Sokka’s head span. He thought about the little corner he’d built for Zuko, and the thrill of having met a need rushed back to him.

“I... I think I might really like that,” he said in wonder.

“I thought you might,” she smiled conspiratorially. She tugged a course list out of a pile on her desk and slid it across to him.

He flipped though it. There were some course titles highlighted in yellow, and others in blue.

The blue classes were in universal user experience design, biotechnology for rehabilitation, robotics, civil engineering and a whole host of things that Sokka could learn.

His brain filled quickly with possibilities for how to fit it all together into a course of study where he could legitimately help people.

He frowned a little as his eyes ran down the classes highlighted in yellow.

They seemed to have no relevance at all.

Sure, he could see why _Zuko_ might want to study eastern philosophy, or the history of ancient weapons, or technical theater, but he had no interest in... oh.

Sokka looked up at her in astonishment.

“N-not all of these are for me?” He said quietly, a squishy feeling making itself known in his chest.

“The university offers a whole range of interesting classes,” she hedged, winking almost imperceptibly. “There’s even a mentoring program you could volunteer with. They help students with spectrum disorders to integrate into the university environment.”

Sokka felt tears welling up in his eyes.

“It’s actually one of the only schools in the country to offer such a specific and diverse range of classes. I... I looked.”

She looked a little awkward, and her pen tapped against the desk again.

He wanted nothing more than to leap across the desk and fling his arms around her.

“This... this is...” he didn’t have any words.

“Are you interested in this program, Sokka?” She smiled, tapping at the university brochure on her desk.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “yeah, I really am.”

* * *

It didn’t feel real until Iroh, Gran-Gran, Azula and Katara left.

Until it was just him and Zuko in a dorm room full of suitcases.

“Well,” he turned away from the door their families had left through and stood facing Zuko. “This is it, then.”

“Yeah,” Zuko smiled back, “this is it.”

“How are you feeling?” Sokka stepped forward and pulled him into his arms. Zuko’s own arms came up to wrap around his back, and they stood quietly for a moment, breathing in each other’s scents and listening to each other’s heart beats.

“I think...” Zuko muttered into Sokka’s hoodie, “I think I’m happy.”

Sokka’s heart swelled, and he gripped tighter into the hug before pulling back and kissing him.

“I’m happy too, babe,” he whispered into his lips. “So happy.”

He took Zuko’s hand in his, and the future stretched out before them, beckoning them forward.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have prompts for this series, let me know!
> 
> Just as a tiny note, I didn’t know I was going to write more stories for this series when I wrote the first couple, so the timeline is a little imperfect. Everything happens in the right order, but sometimes there are a couple of weeks that exist in one story but not in another. I don’t think it’s a massive deal, so I’m not going to go back and change stuff, but I’m sorry if anything is mildly disconcerting if you read them all in a row.
> 
> Love you guys! Thanks for the comments, they give me life! I’ve been getting a lot of hate in another fandom, so it’s so awesome to have you guys be so free with your words. I can switch straight from ‘kill yourself I hate your story’ to all the beautiful, wonderful things you guys say, and it’s absolutely wonderful. You keep me writing. ❤️


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